


Despised, not Loved

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Dark, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25311757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The High King loves his brother with all he has...doesn't he? Very dark. Now revised.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Pretence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter loves his brother, doesn't he?

_"Better terrible truths than kind lies."_

**_~From 'Crooked Kingdom'_ **

* * *

_First day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Night had crept through the land on silent feet; darkness filling the sky. There were no clouds, nor was there a moon, rendering everything black, except for the dull yellow shine of the Narnian torches. It seemed fitting for that night was one marked with death. There wasn't a sign of hope, nothing to reassure them, to keep them going. Just the maddening darkness and even more sickening screams.

They had been fighting against the Ettins for weeks now, trying to keep them from invading their lands. They had underestimated the brutes. Their numbers were far greater than what they had been told and they were stronger, more brutal in battle than they had imagined. Despite the lack of normal intelligence, they knew how to get around weapons, clubs and knives firsthand. They were merciless brutes and unintelligent, and an enemy of that kind as always the hardest to fight.

Swords and arrows did them damage equivalent to none, and they had only managed to kill one-fourth of their entire party after weeks of battles, of blood, of death. But even in a time so grim, fighting a battle that they were bound to lose, they would keep going, for their country, and for Aslan.

Edmund's head snapped up at the sound of a roaring voice, a voice that was far too familiar. His brother's. He was ordering another retreat. Edmund pulled out his sword from the giant's neck and looked to his right, to Peter. His golden hair was the only part of him that he could see amidst the chaos.

The earth suddenly trembled, and a loud _thud_ that could only be caused by a giant's steps rang in his ears. His face paled when he saw a brute moving swiftly with no one to block his path towards…Peter. Peter, who seemed completely oblivious to this, was helping the wounded to retreat. Club in hand and a large smile tugging at his lips, the giant took one step after another towards his brother.

With no wish to waste any more time, Edmund leapt to his feet. He ran until he was right behind the giant and then shouted, "Hey! You! Over here!"

The giant, thankfully, turned. His lips curved to give an even larger, and uglier smile. He lifted up the club that had hung loosely to his side before, and began walking towards Edmund; the ground quivered under his thunderous steps. Edmund sprinted away, away from his brother. _I just need to lead him away, buy them enough time,_ he told himself, running through the small clearing, towards the crowd of trees at the edge. Maybe he would be able to lose the brute there.

"Come here, little King!" the giant yelled, mocking.

But Edmund paid the brute no heed. He kept sprinting, reassured by the loud thuds that followed him. His pace was getting slower and his legs were growing tired. He wouldn't be able to run much longer.

After only a couple of minutes, Edmund found himself kneeling to the ground, panting for breath.

"Little King!"

Turning his head, he saw the giant gaining on him. He managed to gain his feet. He unsheathed his sword and gripped its hilt hard enough to make his knuckles go white. Fear was not a strange feeling, he had felt it many times, felt it when he was Jadis' prisoner, felt it when she had come to reclaim him. But the fear he felt now was something he had only felt once before, when he lay dying on the fords of Beruna, when he was held captive in the Calormen, waiting for another torturous whip against his back. The fear of death was engulfing him.

"Come on, you hideous brute!" he shouted despite his crumbling feet and shaking hands. The giant laughed said something Edmund didn't quite catch. He charged forward, sprinting, changing directions rapidly, and successfully avoiding the giant's club. When he was within reach, he drove the shining sword into the giant's feet at the first chance he got. Of course, all it did was make him groan, but the feeling of satisfaction it gave him made the effort worth it.

The sword was stuck, and the eerie silence all around made it clear that his troops had left _without him._ His fate was clear. Death was staring at him, sneering. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable blow. It came, and Edmund was not prepared. The loud crack that was the snap of his bones echoed through the land and he was sent flying. He didn't know how long it took him to strike the large oak tree.

The pain in his ribs was ignored for not being able to breathe was worse than his cracked bones. One of his lungs or both had been punctured, he was certain. Blood had not made its way up his throat but he knew it would soon come. Losing consciousness would mean losing life, he knew but he didn't care. He just wanted the pain to stop. The mocking laughter and retreating steps of the giant was all he heard.

* * *

He woke to the sound of something cracking. A branch, he concluded. His vision was far too blurry for him to recognise the figure that hovered not a few yards away. So, he blinked until the dark spots were gone and he could see clearly. Every nerve in him wanted him to shout, to yell for help but the lack of breath allowed him only to whisper.

"Peter."

His voice came out broken, hoarse, inaudible. Only now, after pursing his lips again, did he taste the coppery blood in his mouth. "Peter…" he whispered again but his brother only looked around frantically, his searching eyes never catching sight of him. He coughed and more blood filled his mouth. Licking his lips, he tried once again, his voice a little louder this time, "Peter."

He looked at him. Edmund couldn't see his brother's face in the darkness but he knew Peter was looking at him. He closed his eyes knowing he could rest now that his brother was here. Darkness was all he knew for some time.

* * *

Someone was dragging him by his ankle, the harsh ground and stones scraping his back in the process. He blinked, looking up at the star-filled sky and wishing that the pain would go away, wishing for peace.

He somehow managed to lift his head and instantly, he wished he hadn't. It was Peter. Peter, dragging him like a rag doll. His brother was the one causing all this pain, but it couldn't be! Peter would never…would he? Edmund didn't know, didn't want to know. He let his head loll back and closed his eyes, wishing for unconsciousness but he never was the fortunate one, was he?

He stopped.

Peter's hands left his ankle, making the tired leg drop to the ground. The movement only added to his pain. He groaned when he wanted to curse in pain.

Then strong hands slid under his arms, and he was being lifted off the ground. Something coarse touched his back and he groaned again, not having the strength to do anything else. The sound of running water reached his ears, making him thirsty all of a sudden. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking through the sweat mixed with tears. Peter was still there, right in front of him, his face level with Edmund's.

"Peter, please." His voice was no more than a choked and an almost inaudible whisper. "Help me," he pleaded.

Peter laughed.

Something cold and sharp touched his throat and Edmund realised what it was not too quickly. A knife, one that Peter always carried, one that Edmund gave him.

"Please," he said again, his eyes half-closed by now. Another two seconds of silence, and he wouldn't have heard what Peter said.

"Oh, poor Eddie. Are you scared? Scared of what?"

Edmund didn't respond, not a twitch in his muscles.

"Do you want the pain to go away, _brother?_ "

"What…what…are…you…doing?" Edmund said between shuddering breaths.

"What do you think? Did you really think I loved you, Edmund? A brother like you? Really?"

"Please…don't," Edmund begged. He didn't want to hear this, he didn't want this. He didn't—

Peter lifted his chin up, further exposing his pale throat. He pressed the knife harder onto Edmund's skin. Edmund couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

"You are a disappointment, to me, to our sisters, to our family, and to Narnia. I don't know what Susan and Lucy see in you, why they _love_ you. They probably just don't realise it yet, realise what you really are, a snake, an adder, a traitor."

Every word was slowly tearing Edmund's heart to pieces. Why was this happening? Why? Was it true? Did Peter really hate his brother, his only brother, the brother who had been ready to die for him, was ready to die for him?

"I was waiting, Edmund, all these years. So many years of pretence, only waiting, waiting for this, for the right opportunity to rid Narnia of you, of the traitor."

Edmund was barely conscious at this point but Peter's words still pierced his heart and soul. All these years? There was never any love, only despise? Six years of redemption, of struggle and hate, was all Peter held in his heart? Edmund wanted to deny it all, refuse to see the reality. He wanted to recall. Remember the times his brother had supported him, fought for him, died for him. But his mind was numb, filled with only the menacing words of his brother. Said in his voice.

A slash.

Pain.

He had cut his throat.

Blood poured out through the narrow slit. All he could smell could taste was blood. Just blood. His blood. His clothes were soaked in the red liquid by the time Peter threw him to the ground. A kick to the ribs was all he got when he moaned in pain. Strong, unloving hands grabbed him, thrashing him into the river.

As soon as Edmund's body touched the river, he felt a surge of peace. The pain was still there but he could bear it because it wouldn't last too long now. He didn't even try to breathe, mostly because he couldn't. He opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of his brother, Peter, his murderer. He was smiling. The smile of triumph.

He closed his eyes again, waiting for the end, for death. It was all he wanted, death. He didn't want to live because he knew that death would be a kinder fate than living with this knowledge, that his brother hated him, had killed him. He wanted peace, not hate. He wanted warmth, not the coldness in Peter's eyes.

And so, he died.

* * *

An eagle sat on a distant tree, seeing something that he did not wish to see, witnessing a heartless act. The eagle had seen many things in his life, sons killing fathers, mothers killing daughters, even brothers killing brothers but this…this was unlike any of them.

Even the merciless Calormenes had given their brothers a chance to fight, fight for their lives and not murdered them, killed them when the other lay defenceless, already on the brink of death.

This was wrong. Too dark. Too cruel. It was something sweet, so sweet Narnia should never have had to witness. The eagle wondered how The Mighty Lion had let something so cruel, so brutal happen, how He had allowed His chosen one to be killed in such a manner.

The Just King would never get justice; no one would ever know it was the High King himself who murdered him.

The river was red now, it reeked of death.

No, he couldn't let this happen.

So, an eagle fluttered his wings and left the shadow of the tree. An eagle disappeared into the darkness of the moonless night, he flew south, towards Cair Paravel, towards the murderous High King.


	2. The Dark Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Edmund's death from Peter's eyes.

_"The heart can get really cold if all you've known is winter."_

**_~Benjamin Alire Sáenz_ **

* * *

_First day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Screams. Then more screams, all of them slowly killing him. These were the screams of his loyal soldiers, ones who had faith in him, a firm belief which only Aslan could shake and here he was, utterly failing them. He was the one who had led them to their death, a bloody, torturous death. His eyes didn't want to see the blood, the gore. This had to end.

"Retreat now! Fall back!" he shouted as loud as he could and hoped his small voice could be heard amidst the laughing giants and screaming Narnians. And to his immense relief, the Narnians had started retreating to safety, away from the seemingly inevitable death. The giants were few but all deadly. Somehow, by some grace, they, too, had begun falling back instead of finishing them off.

"Go! Fall back!" he yelled again as he helped a satyr, whose leg had been ripped open, gain his feet. The limping creature leaned against Peter and he began leading them towards their camp.

A loud thud echoed but Peter paid it no attention. He kept moving; urging the wounded satyr to move faster even when he knew it was no use. His wounds were too severe to even increase his pace by even a fraction. If someone was to attack them now, death would be inevitable. Another loud thud but it was distant this time.

He looked to his left just in time to see his brother leading away the hideous beast.

"Perfect," he whispered under his breath, causing the satyr to look up at him. Peter merely shrugged it away and continued on.

Not much later, he was lying down on a pile of blankets with hot water being poured into his mouth. He was shivering partially because of the cold and partially because of the losing battle they had just emerged from. The sound of stomping hooves made him look up. A strongly built, tall and sturdy centaur stood in front him, glaring at him with graveness in his eyes.

"General," Peter said.

"My King, King Edmund…he's not at the camp."

Peter's face remained devoid of any emotion and the centaur general was clearly surprised by the lack of change in his expression. Peter quickly gained his feet, shoving aside a dryad who was urging him to lie down and put on his armor. Moving out of the tent, he gestured to Orieus to follow him. He obeyed.

Seconds later, Peter found himself facing the general. With firmness evident in his voice, he said,

"I will go look for him. Make sure all the wounded are attended to and use the cordial if absolutely necessary. Do not hesitate."

"But my good King, surely others can be sent in search for your brother. You needn't risk your safety. Those giants are probably still lurking around."

"It wasn't a suggestion, general. I'll go find him. You stay here, do you understand?"

He gravely nodded and left.

* * *

"Edmund!" Peter's voice penetrated the thin air, breaking the silence. Hand on hilt, eyes searching, he took careful steps, heading into the darkness. Another shout declaring his brother's name left his mouth but nothing followed except an echo.

Some more steps and Peter stopped short, staring at the ground, at the shining metal. It was Edmund's sword, bloodied and broken. A half crooked smile made its way to Peter's lips and he shouted his brother's name again. Stepping forward unconsciously, he didn't notice the broken, thin branch lying on the ground. It cracked and a satisfying sound filled his ears. He looked around, searching for a body, dead or alive.

After two more frantic glances to his sides, he heard a whisper, a whisper saying his name. He immediately looked to his left, in the direction of the voice. There he saw him, a thin, broken and bloodied figure, slumped against an oak tree. His head was lifted for only a few seconds. It limped back to his shoulder again. Peter moved towards him, disturbingly slowly.

After about thirty seconds, he reached him. Still unconscious, he looked as innocent as sweet Lucy but Peter knew what hid behind that pale face. He knelt down beside him, observing him keenly. He let his hand run through his hair, his fingers feeling the warm blood. The gesture was affectionless. He let out a sound of pity and stood up.

Grabbing his ankle, he pulled him to the ground. Within another second, he was dragging him mercilessly. He was far too light and wounded for his liking. He would have liked a challenge, a fight maybe but he would manage with this. He heard a groan and looked behind him, at the now awake, helpless brother. He lifted his head for a fraction of a second and let it limp back again.

"It's alright, you'll be put out of your miserable state soon enough," he whispered to no one but the cold wind.

Finally, he reached the river and let the filthy leg drop to the ground. Another groan. Peter only shook his head, pitying him. He made his way behind Edmund and lifted him up by his arms. Then, practically throwing him against a tree, he smirked. Another loud moan was let out by the slumped figure. He looked down at the cold river. Satisfied, he turned around.

Kneeling beside the helpless form of his brother, he levelled his face with Edmund's and just as he predicted, he opened his eyes.

"Peter, please," he said. "Help me."

Peter only laughed at his plea. Did he seriously think he was going to help him? So, he was a fool as well. Peter then reached his belt and pulled out a gleaming knife. He let his fingers slide over the cold metal and let out a satisfied sigh. Then, he pressed it against the white throat of his brother. He slightly twitched at the sensation and Peter couldn't help but feel sorry for his poor brother.

"Please," he said again.

"Oh poor Eddie, are you scared? Scared of what?"

Peter had expected the slumped figure to respond, a slight nod, a small plea, a curve of his lips but he remained unmoving. Peter then squared his shoulders and pressing the knife a little harder against the white skin, he said,

"Do you want the pain to go away, _brother?_ "

Struggling breaths came first. Then a broken voice, saying, "What…what…are…you…doing?"

Peter half choked himself not to laugh. The adder still didn't know? Was he really that stupid, or really that trusting? The knife dug deeper into Edmund's skin and the shining red liquid was starting to seep through. A feeling of immense satisfaction overtook him at the sight.

"What do you think? Did you really think I loved you, Edmund? A brother like you? Really?"

"Please…don't."

Peter was confused. Was he asking him to stop talking or to spare him? Either way, neither of his wishes would be fulfilled. He wouldn't let them. He lifted his chin up and dug the sharp metal even deeper into his skin. Edmund closed his eyes.

"You were a disappointment, to me, to our sisters, to our family and to Narnia. I don't know what Susan and Lucy see in you, why they _love_ you. They probably just don't realize it yet, realize what you really are, a snake, an adder, a traitor."

Edmund was utterly still and Peter would have mistaken him to be dead, had it not been for the occasional, shallow breaths he let out. Even if he despised him, he wasn't cruel, not evil. Sympathy filled him and he let out a pitiful sigh, not for the first time that night. The adder's state was truly miserable but he deserved it.

"I was waiting, Edmund, all these years. So many years of pretence, only waiting, waiting for this, for the right opportunity to rid Narnia of you, of the traitor, to rid me of the one person I hate more than anything else."

Peter didn't know if Edmund could hear him anymore. He wanted him to, he wanted him to hear, to know why this was happening, wanted the truth to be finally spilt, to pull him out the thin veils of the lies he had formed over the years. He wanted him to hear the dark truth.

"By the grace of Aslan, you will die today traitor and I will be the one to kill you, your own brother."

It was time.

With a single slash of the blade, his throat had been cut open. The white skin was no longer visible with so much red covering it. The sight of blood was never pleasant but on this particular occasion, Peter was satisfied. He threw him to the ground and he let out a painful moan. Peter kicked him in the ribs, hoping it would add to his misery. Then, he grabbed him by his arms, blood soaking his fingers. With little effort, he threw him into the river.

With a splash, he immersed in the water fully. The water, which was growing redder by the second, did his filthy form good, blood was washed off and the pale skin once again showed itself. No bubbles surfaced, he had made no attempts at breathing.

The sight was too satisfying for Peter to not smile. Finally, his brother was dead, gone, never to come back. With a swift turn, Peter walked away from the river, from the blood, from his brother's body.

* * *

_Second day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Silent footsteps followed by whispers filled the air. Peter's face was grim but not saddened. There was no grief, no regret, no shock, only graveness. The Narnians had gathered themselves around the High King, all eyes searching for a companion, someone who was supposed to be with him. Peter didn't look at them; he looked at no one but the ground.

"High King." Orieus' bold voice finally made him look up. He was still standing strong, early sun rays blocked by him.

"Orieus," he said only with a hint of woe in his low voice.

"Where is your brother, High King?"

"He's dead."

The crowd gasped and Orieus only slightly jerked back. Peter then said, "I found him…torn apart by the giants. I could barely look at him. I had…to burn him."

"You burned him?" Orieus asked, obviously shocked.

"I had to."

"Oh my good King, you must come with me," he said, taking Peter into a slight embrace and led him into a tent. His bloodied tunic was taken off and he was given a cleaner shirt to wear. He took off his boots and wiggled his sore toes.

"My king…what can I do?" a dryad healer, Arada asked.

"I would like some water."

She bolted out and Peter lied back, sighing.

* * *

"My good cousins, we have lost a king today. I lost my brother but he didn't die in vain. He died fighting till his last breath. Narnia will mourn him and will avenge him. We will kill every last one of those hideous creatures, we will avenge our King!"

The crowd shouted in agreement and Peter smiled faintly. Orieus was standing beside him, his eyes full of concern and suspicion. Peter looked away from the general and his uncomfortable gaze.

"How many did we lose yesternight, Lieutenant?" he asked looking at the satyr, Sybil.

"Fifteen, good my King."

Peter glanced around.

"And Silverblade? Where is he? I saw him last night at the camp."

"He disappeared, my King. We fear he has abandoned us," the satyr replied, keeping his eyes down.

"Then, Dracus Odawa is a traitor and no longer Narnia's knight. If he is seen in Narnia again, make sure he won't be granted any mercy."

Peter saw Orieus open his mouth and quickly close it again.

"Orieus, can I talk to you?"

The centaur nodded and followed his High King to an empty tent.

"I am afraid I must go to my sisters. I reckon you understand."

"Yes."

"I leave you in command. You'll do well, general. I'll back as soon as I can."

"Yes, your majesty."

"You can leave now."

Casting Peter another final glance, Orieus stomped out of the tent and Peter settled on the cot. He closed his eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.


	3. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan and Lucy find out, but is it the truth?

_"Deep in earth, my love is lying. And I must weep alone."_   
**_~Edgar Allan Poe_ **

* * *

_Fifth day Heimsavery, 1006_

Susan's heart hadn't stopped throbbing and thumping inside her chest, tears hadn't stopped rolling down her white cheeks, leaving dry trails, and her eyes hadn't stopped burning. It couldn't be true. The horrible news that the Swallow brought them. That her little brother was dead. More than once, she had tried to bury the pain, the heartache. Tried to be a queen and an older sister. Tried to bring back some semblance to her thoughts. To console Lucy somehow. But it was too much. Everything hurt.

A soft, thudding knock on the door managed to snap her out of her grim thoughts. She wiped the tears away and looked at the door with her bloodshot eyes.

"Enter," she said in the same grieving voice she had been wearing since first the news came.

A Tiger, Treximo, one of her guards, appeared through the doorway. He never met Susan's eyes. Bowing slightly, he said, "My queen, the High King has arrived."

She nodded her head. And he left after another formal bow. She tried to be happy for her brother's return. She forced herself to smile but failed expectedly. She closed her eyes, only to have another tear flow down her cheek. Before it could reach her chin, she wiped it away and abruptly stood up, determined to be strong, for Peter and Lucy and for herself.

Not long after that, she found herself clutching to her little sister tightly, holding her close as she hid her face in her shoulder, waiting for Peter to come to them. Before Susan could even make out the figure of her brother, coming up the green slope, fading in the sun's light, Lucy jumped and ran to him. Susan was quick to follow. Lucy embraced him as hard as she could and Susan gave his cheeks a warming touch. She ran her hand through his hair and kissed his forehead and then his cheeks. The touch still wasn't enough to convince her he was there, alive and whole.

She pulled away. Lucy still was in his arms, sniffing, refusing to let even an inch come between her and her brother. Susan gazed into his blue eyes. Something wasn't right.

His eyes weren't grieving. Mourning. They didn't reflect sorrow for his brother. Didn't hold despair. Nor any shock. Only a certain grimness in them. An alien feeling. Could it be? Dare she hope?

"Peter…Ed?"

Lucy looked at her, the obvious glimmer of hope glittering in her dark blue eyes. Peter shook his head solemnly and Lucy buried her face into his chest again. He kissed her hair. Susan didn't react. She couldn't move. Her limbs were frozen and her chest constricted. There had been a certain hope before, a chance however slim that her brother was alive, but now-

"Peter…please, it can't be. Please…" she whispered, her legs still firmly attached to the ground and her arms unmovable.

"I'm sorry, Su."

His voice-his voice, there was no emotion in it, no shock, no brokenness. Was he that utterly taken back by Edmund's death that he refused to let himself grieve?

"Oh Peter…" she said as another tear fell down to the thick grass. Then she asked something she never thought she would have to, something that took everything to get out.

"The…the body?"

Peter's eyes left hers as he pressed another gentle kiss onto Lucy's hair, who hadn't moved. He covered her ears and swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and then said in a low voice, "I…I burned him. When I found him…there wasn't much left of him. I couldn't let anyone else see that, couldn't let you see that."

Susan wished she was deaf when she heard those hideous words. He had burned him? Burned him?

"Susan?"

She looked at Lucy who thankfully hadn't heard what Peter had just told her. She had no intention of telling her.

"Susan?"

Her knees buckled, throwing her to the ground. She crumpled in a miserable heap. Loud sobs escaped her dry throat. She finally allowed herself to weep. Her weight was too heavy for her to support. The burden too much to take. She screamed. She screamed as Peter held her, and Lucy shook her, trying to bring her to her senses but their attempts were futile. She couldn't stop, couldn't hold it in.

"Su! Susan, please!"

She leaned against her sister and sobbed silently as she held her, Lucy's own tears were wetting Susan's shoulder. Peter joined the huddle at some point but Susan could barely feel anything. Her legs were numb and her arms were shaking uncontrollably. She could tell Lucy wasn't doing much better and Peter—

Something was wrong with him, he hadn't cried, hadn't screamed, not even silent tears. Realizing this, she pulled away from Lucy and looked at her one remaining brother. His eyes still held the same grimness. Why couldn't Peter bring himself to grieve?

"Oh, Peter…Peter." Her voice came out with shaky breaths and her lower lip trembled. She threw herself at him, clutching to him for dear life, her hands caressing his hair. She kissed his hair several times, trying to let him somehow accept what had happened, to feel the loss and let it out but there were still no tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to…you had to…"

She couldn't bring herself to say the cursed words. He had seen him torn apart.

"Oh, Peter…"

She felt Lucy wiggle her way between them and she held them both tight, close to her heart where she could feel their warmth, could reassure herself that they too wouldn't be taken from her. But what of the brother who was so mercilessly snatched away from her? What of Edmund, the one she was supposed to look after, be a mother to? How was she to go on when she knew he would never be by her side again?

"We'll get through this. We will," Lucy said, the sorrow clear.

"I want him back. Peter, I want him back!" Susan cried and Lucy shushed her, rubbing her back slightly, trying to soothe her when she herself had been utterly shattered.

"It's alright. It's alright, Su. It is, really is."

Something about the way Peter said it made Susan feel uneasy.

* * *

Two hours had passed. Two hours since her elder brother had returned. Since her heart had been shattered and her world had shattered around her, crumbled into pieces. Nothing would ever soothe the pain. She would always be broken. This wound, time would not be able to heal.

Burying her face into the bed, she started to weep again. A part of her was amazed that there were still any tears left. She wasn't in her bed; she was in Edmund's. She needed something to remind her of him, of his presence, of his scent, of his warmth.

"Oh Ed, why'd you leave us?"

Sobs refused to seize and the pillow she held close to her was wet with tears, fresh drops depositing themselves on it every minute.

"What am I supposed to do, Ed? What am I supposed to do?"

_Be a queen._

That sarcastic tone, that deep voice of her brother inside her head made her smile. But only for a second.

"How am I supposed to do that when you're gone forever?" she asked, wiping her tears away.

Y _ou'll see me again, Su. One day, you'll see me again but for now, you have to be strong. Think of Lucy, of Peter. How are they supposed to go on when you breakdown? You can do this, sister. I believe in you._

His voice was so clear in her mind; she could almost imagine him sitting next to her on the bed, smiling in the most appealing way possible. She somehow managed to pull herself off the bed. She braided her hair and stepped out of the room, determined to be strong, for her family and her kingdom.

* * *

Peter hadn't left his study since his arrival. His eyes were fixed on the map of Ettinsmoor, his mind racing to somehow for a plan. A plan to lead them to victory but nothing would come to mind.

"If we could drive them to the rocks-"

"Peter?" Lucy's shaky voice said. And he turned around just in time to see her closing the door behind her. She took small, trembling steps towards Peter and within a few seconds was standing right beside him, staring at the map.

"You could place your defences here," she said as she put a marker east of the marker Peter had on the map. "And could attack from here," She said as she pointed to the northern part of the map.

"Thank you, Lu," Peter said, smiling in appreciation.

"Are you alright?"

He took a deep breath before replying, "I think so, yes."

"But Peter…you haven't…you saw him and you haven't…"

He pulled her close to him. Pressing a tender kiss on her golden hair, he said, "I'm alright, Lu. I really am."

"But Peter, Ed's gone and you haven't…I haven't seen you cry. You have to let it out or it will…it will eat you alive."

"Listen…listen, hey…" he said, taking her face in his hands. "I have grieved, Lu. I have. But I can't breakdown now. Narnia needs me."

She nodded, her eyes shining with fresh tears.

"Do you…do you remember the time he…he sent that Terebinthian back just because he thought he looked at me strangely? He was only thirteen," she said, a tired smile appearing on her still sorrowful face.

"Yes, of course."

"I don't remember the other place, England, that clearly anymore but do you remember when he made cakes. They were a disaster but we ate them anyway. I think he knew we didn't like them."

"Yes, Lu. Of course, I remember."

"Or when he-"

"That's enough nostalgia, don't you think?" he interrupted.

"But-"

"I have to work now. You should leave. Go on now."

"But don't you want to-"

"Lucy."

She grimly nodded and left. Peter could tell she was on the brink of crying but it didn't matter. He had work to do. He put on a cloak and was just about to leave his study when the door opened and Susan emerged in.

"Peter…where are you going?"

"I just…I had something I needed to do. What is it?"

"I…I just wanted to tell you that Ed's…his funeral will be tomorrow morning, early morning, only half an hour after dawn. He always liked to watch the sunrise, so we thought…"

"Yeah, I'll be there," he said as he began to make his way past Susan and out to the corridor. He needed to—

"Peter, wait." Susan's gentle hands grabbed his arm and he was stopped short, frustrated.

"What is it?"

She only hugged him in response, her warmth calming him. He hugged her back and kissed her dark black hair. She let go only when he said he needed to hurry.

Then soon enough, he was standing in the darkest room, his fists clenched and a smirk making its way to his face.

* * *

_First day of Heimsavery, 1006_

A dark forest was definitely not an ideal place to look for someone but what other choice did he have? So, he made his way past the trees, his heart racing and his eyes searching. He hoped he wouldn't be caught. What if he found King Peter somewhere? What would he tell him? He sighed, hope starting to leave him.

He knew they must think he had abandoned them but he needed to go. He needed to find King Edmund. He needed to find his brother.


	4. Did You Not Love Him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan asks Peter a simple question: "Did you not love him?"

_"But courage, child: we are all between the paws of the true Aslan."_

**_~C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle_ **

* * *

_Sixth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Peter's gaze shifted to see his sisters, arms wrapped around each other, and eyes teary still. Peter would have let out an exasperated sigh, but he held it in for the sake of politeness. He cleared his throat and looked at his subjects. He said, "We mourn our lost King, my brother and Knight. All of Narnia is grieving. But remember that a war is still brewing in the North. The merciless giants that-"

"Peter, if you will," Susan intervened in a requesting voice. And he blinked at her. He left the podium, bowing humbly, trying to make the situation less embarrassing. What did his sister want with him?

"What is it?" he asked when he reached her.

Before she could reply, a distant call echoed, "High King!"

A gasping badger made his way to him and Susan, who had separated themselves from the crowd long enough for Lucy to take over.

"What is it?" Susan asked calmly.

"King Lune is here. He wants to pay his condolences and-"

"And what?" Peter asked, his brows knitted.

"My King, he brings soldiers with him. He says he wants to help us defeat the giants," the badger replied, adjusting his glasses.

Peter's mouth gaped in surprise. He had not expected it, not even from Lune. If Archenland was willing to help, if they were to get reinforcements, the giants would be driven out in no time.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

"But Peter-" Susan said, grabbing his arm, futilely attempting to prevent him from leaving.

Peter turned, glowering in frustration. "What?"

"What—what do you mean what? It's your brother's funeral! You can't just leave!"

"I have to. Now, if you'll let me-"

"Peter!"

"Susan, stop it. Narnia needs me and I can't be here when King Lune's expecting me out there. That is more important. Narnia is more important."

"Actually, High King, he said he would wait.," the badger said, flicking his small tail, balancing his glasses on his long nose.

Peter shot the badger a glare that silenced him and shoved off Susan's hand from his arm. He then quickly hurried back to the castle. He did not see his sister falling to her knees and beginning to weep again.

* * *

The silence that had engulfed the Throne Room was broken when loud footsteps rippled through the Great Hall. King Lune, his son, Prince Corin, and some dukes had all gathered, a mourning look on their faces. Peter greeted the dukes first; all paid their condolences on his brother's death.

As soon as he finished greeting the last duke, a small figure wrapped him a very tight embrace. He looked down to see a golden mop of hair barely reaching his chest. It was Prince Corin. He grabbed his arms and gently pulled him away. Kneeling in front of him, he noticed his wet eyes. He offered him his handkerchief and said, "Are you alright, my prince?" He shook his head and Peter pulled him close again. Shushing him, he said, "It's alright. Don't cry, Corin."

"I-I'm so sorry, King Peter. I know you loved him very much," he said between sobs and Peter brushed his hair off his forehead.

"It's alright, Prince. Go on now," he said, gesturing towards the faun who had come to escort him to the guest chambers. She hushed him words that did not reach Peter, and took him out of the room. He was still sobbing when he left. .

"King Lune, I have not words to thank you," he said as he took his offered him his right hand. King Lune shook it, accepting the gesture. Handshakes had become common in Narnia, spreading even to the Southern Kingdoms, ever since little Lucy taught Mr. Tumnus about them.

"It aches my heart to hear such grave news, King Peter. He was too young," King Lune said as Peter took a seat on his throne, his eyes never leaving King Lune.

"Yes, he was. He only turned seventeen a few months ago but a soldier can never hope to live long," he replied, managing to give his fellow King a grim smile.

Lune smiled in response as well and then said, "I come here not only to pay my grievances but to offer you aid, High King. Even in a time so grim, Narnia has a war to fight. High King, I bring two hundred soldiers with me, all armed. We will join your troops in Ettinsmoor and fight with them."

Peter could not help the wide smile at the declaration. Lune had brought Narnia's salvation with him. He stood up and nodded. "Very well, Narnia thanks you, King Lune. If it is alright with you, we could leave in an hour's time."

King Lune gaped at him, astonished. He cleared his throat before saying, "But my good King, you sure do not wish to accompany us, not at such a time. Your sisters need you and I am sure you need time to grieve. I hear General Orieus is handling things there. I and he can lead the soldiers. I say you stay here, with your family. It would be better that way."

Peter blinked, considering the option. King Lune was right, he needn't go, not when they had two hundred more soldiers helping them. He would stay but not to grieve.

"Alright, King Lune. I will stay for the sake of my sisters."

The King smiled and gestured his dukes to leave. Peter watched them leave and smiled out of satisfaction.

* * *

Susan was barely holding herself together through the funeral. Even then, she needed Lucy to support her, to help her stand on her feet but now—

Peter had left, had left his brother's funeral. He had left!

"Susan! Oh Susan, what are you doing? Please, you have to get up." Lucy's urgent voice had no effect on her. She was still kneeling on the grass, crying. How could Peter not care? How could he block everything out? _Oh Aslan, don't take both my brothers from me._

"Susan, do you hear me? Su?"

A warm hand cupped her face but she couldn't open her eyes to see who it belonged to. It all hurt too much.

"Susan, please. You're scaring me. What happened? Where's Peter? Su!"

_I believe in you, Su._

She had almost jumped up when she heard the voice, had almost believed Edmund to be standing right beside her, his dark eyes staring at her with loving warmth in them, and a thorough frown on his face.

"Susan?"

_You can do this, Su._

"I can't."

"What? What can't you do, Susan? Talk to me."

_Talk to her._

Yes, Edmund was right. She needed to talk to someone. To Lucy.

"Lu?" she said, opening her eyes slowly. She blinked away the tears and let her sister embrace her tightly. She hugged her back.

"It's alright. Tell me what's wrong."

"Peter. He left."

"Why? What happened?"

"King Lune; he's here. Lucy, he left! He left when Edmund needed him. How could he leave? He never leaves."

"It's okay, it's okay. Peter just needs time. He hasn't accepted it yet. It's alright."

"But…it's almost like he doesn't…he doesn't care."

"That's absurd. Peter loved Edmund, loves Edmund, more than both of us. It's alright. Just give him time, give him time."

Susan didn't know what else to do but bury her face further into her shoulder and weep.

* * *

Peter stood in silence as he watched the soldiers and King Lune disappear into the forest that bordered the Northern part of Cair's beach. It followed the Great River on whose bank the Castle was built all the way to the Northern marshes. His sisters stood beside him, still holding each other. Susan had been shooting him suspicious glares all day and Lucy had only smiled every time. Peter had tried to disregard it but now it was too much. Susan hadn't stopped looking at him, seething, since they came out to bid goodbye to King Lune.

He turned to face his sisters. Lucy left Susan, forcing her to stand on her own. Shooting two glances to both her sisters, he said, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked, her hand firmly planted on Susan's shoulder.

"Susan has been staring at me. Is something wrong?"

"No-"

"Yes! Everything is wrong! Everything! Ed's gone, Peter! Gone! He's dead, our baby brother is dead and you haven't even shed a single tear! Are you made of stone? Or do you simply not care? Does it not hurt you? Does it not matter to you?"

Peter looked at them, open-mouthed. If they only knew.

"Oh Su, of course, it matters to me. I..-"

"Did you not love him?"

Lucy's sharp gasp followed Susan's question. Peter looked at his youngest sister and then his gaze shifted to Susan again. He swallowed a lump in his throat and was about to say respond when Lucy yelled, "How could you?! How could you say that? Could ask that? Peter loved him more than both of us, still loves him! Are you blind, sister?" Before Susan could so much as blink at her, she continued, "Never ever again say that!"

She then stormed away, back to the Castle, leaving only Peter and Susan in stunned silence. Susan couldn't meet his eyes. Peter took her into his arms and rubbing her shoulder, he said, "It's alright. Everything will be alright."

Susan only stood frozen.

* * *

No more than two hours had passed since King Lune's departure; since Susan had said to Peter the five most horrid words, since she had questioned Peter's love for their brother. How could she be so naïve? Why didn't she have her sister's faith? Why didn't she have her strength? How could she let herself breakdown like that again?

_It wasn't your fault._

Susan looked around, her eyes searching for a tall, slender figure, but the room was empty. He wasn't there, he would never be there. _Oh Aslan, why?_

_It wasn't your fault._

Susan shook her head in disagreement. More tears formed in her eyes and it took her a moment to find her voice. "But it was. How could I ask that? I should have known, as Lucy does." There was no response. "Ed?" She didn't know what she expected. Did she think he would miraculously show up, that he would hug her tight and make this pain in her chest go away? That somehow he would come back from the dead and make everything alright?

"Edmund, please. Come back. Please, come back."

"Queen Susan?" The voice was accompanied by a knock and Susan quickly wiped her cheeks and tried to make her look at least presentable. She straightened her hair, letting them fall over her shoulders, and then said, "Come in." An elderly faun opened the door and silently entered. "Yes?"

"My Queen, it's the Eagle, Swiftwind. He says he has something to say."

"Could the High King not hear what he has to say?"

"He asks for your presence and your sister's as well. King Peter is already in the Great Hall, waiting for you and Queen Lucy."

She nodded.

* * *

She stepped in through the large doors, into the Hall, to find both her sister and brother already seated on their thrones, crowns glinting on their heads. Susan adjusted hers as she, too, sat down on her throne between her brother and her sister. She forced herself to not look at the empty throne on Peter's right; it would always be empty now.

Her gaze shifted to the Eagle who everyone was so eagerly looking at. He was a white, beautiful, and an almost exotic bird. It was clear that he had journeyed far to come here. Exhaustion was written all over him, the tired flap of his wings, the low gasps. He kept shifting from one foot to another as if he was nervous. Or just simply tired.

"My good eagle, Swiftwind, is it?" Peter asked and the Eagle nodded, refusing to look at the High King. Susan frowned at that.

"What is it that you have to say, my good cousin?"

The Eagle replied in an insolent tone, "I'm sure you would know, _High King._ "

Susan looked at her brother, furrowing her brows, and found Lucy shooting him the same suspicious look. She then turned to face the swallow again and said, "Whatever do you mean by that, Swiftwind?"

"Your majesty, I bear grave news. I wish it was not true but I have seen it with my own eyes. A truly cruel act."

"Get to the point," Peter said, his voice stern and accusing.

"Of course, _High King._ Or should I call you a murderer?"

Lucy half gasped, half choked at the last word. Susan jerked back; her hand covered her mouth almost immediately and Peter—

Peter's face remained unchanged, only his fists were clenched. He said, "You do realize what you're saying?"

"Yes, High King. I saw you. I saw you so mercilessly slit your brother's throat and throw him into the river."


	5. Untrue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan really didn't want to know the truth or is it the truth?

_"Words are not enough. Not mine, cut off at the throat before they breathe. Never forming, broken and swallowed, tossed into the void before they are heard."_

**_~Peter B. Forster_ **

* * *

_Sixth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Susan couldn't even blink. Couldn't move. Every nerve in her, every part of her body wanted to run away. Every inch of her wished not to face what the Eagle had just said. But his horrifying words had printed themselves into her mind, jeering her. It couldn't be true. It was a lie. A lie. She opened her mouth to speak but could form no words. Nothing came out. Looking to her left, she saw Lucy trembling. Her hands shaking. Voice quavering as she sobbed.

But Peter's face was still unchanged. With his right hand on the pommel of Rhindon, he stood up. He let out a heavy breath and Susan could see he was trying to calm himself. He looked at the Eagle with a look of utter despise in his eyes. One that Susan didn't know he possessed.

"Are you saying I killed my brother? That I murdered him?" he asked the bird, his voice bold but calm.

"Yes," the Eagle replied firmly. The single word made her throat close up. She could swear her ears had started bleeding.

"Why do you accuse me of this, eagle? Of a crime I could not think to commit?" Peter asked Swiftwind who shot her brother another disgusted glare before speaking up,

"Don't try to hide it. You killed him, you killed as he lay defenceless, as he pleaded and begged."

"Stop!" Lucy roared and Susan flinched. She had heard her sister shout like that only a few times in the past. It was rare for sweet Lucy to lose her temper, to not speak with her natural, gentle voice. This kind of outburst was reserved for rare occasions, ones that brought pain to her family, to her kingdom. And this, without a doubt in Susan's mind, was one of those occasions.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" she said as she sunk back into her throne. Peter shot the Eagle, who had had sense enough to not look at the three, another furious glare and hurried to his sister. He knelt down beside her and Susan followed. Soon, the three of them had formed another huddle, clinging to each other, for none of them could let go. Lucy was sobbing into her sleeve, her loose hair falling to her sides, hiding her bitter tears. Susan was weeping as well. But Peter-Peter was clearly enraged. There was no other emotion in his eyes. Only rage. Before Susan or Lucy could protest, he stood up. Straightening his back, he asked, "Do you have any proof? Anything besides your hollow words?"

The eagle, as predicted, remained silenced. Susan let out a sigh of relief.

"Then, you shall be escorted out. Do not dare to show your face here again, Swiftwind, after what you have said."

"Aslan sees all, _High King._ He sees all," Swiftwind declared, once again looking at Peter.

His words stung Susan but she chose to ignore the strange feeling they brought with them and further enveloped Lucy into a hug. Peter nodded at the guards and Swiftwind was forced out. Not seconds later, Peter joined the group again, his right hand rubbing Susan's shoulder and the left caressing Lucy's hair who still hadn't stopped crying. Peter said in a calming voice, "Shh…it's alright. He's gone now."

"How could he…he said…he…" Lucy couldn't manage to say anything more. Her sobs were still audible.

"It's okay, Lu. It doesn't matter what he said. It wasn't true."

Something inside Susan wanted to protest, to argue against Peter's denial but— No, she couldn't think that. How could she even think something like that?

_Ask him._

"No!"

Peter and Lucy both turned to her, their puzzled eyes querying her.

_Ask him, Su._

"But-"

"Susan, are you alright? What is it?" Peter asked as he reached out to her. Susan jerked back, unwilling to let him touch her. Her own reaction made her skin crawl in fear and guilt.

_Susan, you have to ask him._

"I can't. I-I have to go." With those words, she darted out of the room. She ran as fast as she could away from her brother, away from the sickening feeling his sight brought to her now.

It was simply a lie. A lie.

* * *

"But it can't be true! I can't ask him that! I can't accuse him of that! He's my brother! Your brother! How can you tell me to ask him that, Ed? Haven't we been through enough? And now this? Please, Ed, I can't."

She knew her ladies-in-waiting had been whispering outside her chambers, trying to figure why exactly she was talking to herself. She knew they must think she had gone mad. Perhaps she had.

 _You know knowing will be better._ The deep voice calmed Susan, for a second it made her believe that everything was alright, that her brother wasn't dead.

_Ask him, Su, for me._

For him? Was she willing to let her heart break, to make an accusation that would forever lead whatever family she had remaining into destruction? Was she willing to let everything she had left go for her little brother, for Edmund?

She was.

"For you then."

* * *

The sunlit room that Peter had chosen to find himself some peace in was filled with the sound of a soft knock and Peter leapt to his feet in order to answer it. He knew it had to be Susan; perhaps she had come to her senses. Perhaps she had realized how wrong she had been.

The door creaked softly as he opened it and he found himself fondly staring at the dark-haired, blue-eyed sister he had expected to see. He gestured her to come in and she obliged after slightly nodding. Her expression was unreadable and Peter silently wondered if she really was here to apologize.

"Peter, I…wanted to ask you something."

Peter blinked at her. She had wanted to ask him something, hadn't come to apologize but to enquire?

"What would that be, sister?" he said, curious.

She cleared her throat and paced around for a good twenty seconds before she finally found her voice and said, "When...you said you found him…why did you go alone?"

Peter almost felt as if he was dreaming. Susan was actually accusing him of this. She had actually been suspicious, had actually believed the Eagle. He was left perplexed. Her voice faltered. She couldn't ask him if he really had murdered their brother. Maybe it was time she knew.

"You…I don't want to believe that you could have…but…it…oh, Peter."

"Are you sure you want to know, sister?" he asked with an almost menacing smile on his face. Susan looked up at him, her eyes were filled with uncertain fear. Her mouth couldn't find any words to say. She had to know.

"I asked, are you sure you want to know?"

A tear made its way down her cheek and Peter reached out to wipe it but she flinched away, her hands still trembling. She opened her mouth as if to say something but clearly still didn't have any words. Peter asked again, "Do you want to know?"

He could barely make out the nod she gave him, her trembles hiding it. Peter sat down on the chair beside her and cupped her cheek with his hand, he could tell she was trying her hardest to not jerk at his touch.

"Swiftwind wasn't lying. I killed him."

The words made Susan burst into sobs, tears fell down freely and she buried her face into her hands, clearly not willing to look at her brother. Peter brushed back her hair and touching his forehead to her temple, he continued, "Yes, I slit his throat and threw his body into the river. Yes, I murdered him as he lay there pleading."

Susan shoved him back and stood up. Her knees refused to support her and she was pulled to the ground. Her voice came out broken, her eyes still never meeting him. She said, "Why?"

The single word made him laugh out loud. An evil, ominous string of laughter. Susan looked at him with pure horror in her eyes.

"Oh Susan, you know somebody had to do it. When no one saw him for what he was, I did. It had to be done; you know it had to be done."

At first, Peter couldn't hear what she was saying but when he leaned closer to her, he heard, "Not true. Can't be true. Can't be true."

"Oh, sister. You never saw it, did you? I never loved him, not once."

"Can't be true."

"I hated him."

"Can't be true."

"And I killed him."

"Can't be true."

Another knock on the door interrupted whatever Peter was about to say in response to her continuous chanting of the three words. Peter grabbed Susan by her arm even as she tried to shove him off and hauled her to her feet. He wiped her cheeks. She jerked back but he held her where she was.

"You don't want to be seen crying like that, now do you? You'll see one day, Susan. You'll see why I did it."

The door opened and Susan bolted out, still crying. As Peter saw her leave, a very worried Lucy entered. She glanced back in the direction Susan had just run in and then shifted her gaze back to Peter. Before she could ask what had happened, Peter shushed her and left the room.

* * *

_Sixth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

The sun only added to Peter's desire to reach his destination as soon as possible. His last visit to the captive had been cut short, now was the time to make up for it. To make sure he wasn't being followed, he looked behind and then to his sides but saw only the green and brown of the trees. He quickened his pace. Within fifteen more minutes, he found himself staring at a ridiculously small door, one that he had to crouch in order to get through.

He entered and the absolute darkness that filled the room made him pity his captive. He took off his cloak and put it onto the chair next to the door. He then moved to the right corner of the room and grabbed a lantern. He pulled out a match and lit the lantern. A yellow, dim light shone through the room and Peter immediately looked to his left, to the helpless, bound figure.

He placed the lantern onto the table that occupied the middle of the small room and marched ahead. The captive flinched away as he approached him, making Peter glare at him in warning.

He knelt down in front of him, staring into the blue, enraged eyes.

Peter pulled out the knife that he had on his sword belt and gazed at it in admiration. It truly was a magnificent piece of work. The silver hilt had a lion's head on it, raising up the pommel. And the blade was as sharp as it could be, the edges shone sharply in the dull light. Beautiful weapons were rare to find.

The captive shook his head in an attempt to mock Peter. Peter couldn't control his pitiful laughter. Did the captive think he was in any sort of position to jeer him? If he didn't need him-

The captive stared at him as he rolled up his bloody sleeve. Peter saw him trying to grit his teeth in anger but fail due to the gag in his mouth. Deciding to delay things a little bit, Peter settled back, the blue eyes followed him as he moved in front of the captive once again. He truly was brave.

"If I remove the gag, can you promise to be respectful?"

The captive nodded, clearly eager to get the filthy thing out of his mouth. Peter smirked at him, satisfied with the response and took off the gag. The captive, as promised, remained silent and only flexed his lower jaw, trying to eliminate the numbness in it. Then, he looked at Peter with only repugnance in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Peter spoke up with a crooked smile on his face, "I missed you too, Peter."


	6. Rise Above the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has yet to rise.

_"I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave."_

**_~ Horace_ **

* * *

_First day of Heimsavery, 1006_

His footsteps were the source of the only sound that could be heard in the unnaturally quiet and deathly dark forest. The crunching of leaves and twigs along with the shaking sighs that he gave occasionally accompanied the low sounds of him stomping his feet on the ground. He heard a queer sound and he was almost certain that it was an owl. It made sense. It was almost midnight after all and here he was, stumbling alone through this forest in which the giants still probably lurked, all hungry and looking for another prey, rubbing their hands together, their horrible sneers, and saliva dripping from the yellow teeth. They were truly hideous.

But he didn't regret his actions, not in the slightest. When King Edmund had declared him a knight, he had sworn allegiance to the Just King, had taken an oath to protect him with his life if it ever came to that. Even if it wasn't for the oath, he would protect him for he was his friend. His brother.

He adjusted his cloak to cover his ears when the cold wind howled in his ears, making him visibly shudder. It was incredibly cold and he was miserable, his body yelling at him to stop, to find warmth but he kept moving, mustering all the strength he had. He would find him, Aslan willing, he would find him. He moved aimlessly through the black for almost twenty more minutes before he heard it.

_SPLASH!_

Dracus didn't know there was a river close by, but even after the three years he had spent in Narnia, he didn't know her well, especially the Northern Marshes-if they weren't in Ettinsmoor. The sound, however concerning, gave him hope. It had to be King Edmund but why would he decide to take a swim in the river in a weather this cold? Unless someone had forced him to. He was in danger.

His heart started racing, so did his legs. He was running at an inhumane pace now, desperate to get to his King, desperate to save him from any danger. The steps became more laboured and his breathing grew uneven as he dashed through the trees, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. He tackled at least three trees and stumbled twice before he heard the sound of running water. With newly gained hope, he smiled slightly and ran.

He came out of the thick crowd of trees and found himself in a large clear section of the woods, the sound of water still filling his ears. He turned left and ran once again, growing more desperate by the second.

"King Edmund!" he bellowed, hoping for a reply which he knew would not come. He was still in the river.

When he finally caught sight of the river, he felt his stomach twist and turn, and resisted the urge to scream. Nausea wrapped him. The water was red, red with blood. If it was Edmund's—

Without wasting another second, he stripped off his cloak and tunic and put down his sword beside the small bundle. Then, he dived into the bloody water, trying his hardest to block out the horrible smell of death. The red water was making his job harder, he could barely see a meter in front of him. And the river was terribly deep. He bobbed out of the water when his lungs ran out of air and unconsciousness threatened to take over.

With a deep breath, he was immersed in the water again. He had to find him, King Peter would kill him otherwise. He dived deeper into the river and found him, lying at the bottom of the river, utterly still. He barely had time to notice the deep cut on his throat.

He swam to him and grabbed him, tossing his arm around his neck. He thrust upwards even as his eyes burned and lungs ached. Soon, both their heads were protruding out of the water. He almost imagined Edmund gasping for breath but the young King was still unmoving, deathly pale, his throat still—

With another push towards the bank, his hand touched the wet mud and an expression of relief made its way to his face. He dragged the limp body of his King to the shore and for a moment collapsed beside his still form. After the too short break, he jerked up and his eyes automatically turned to Edmund. His chest wasn't rhythmically rising and sinking.

He pressed two of his fingers to his throat and waited to feel the pressure of his blood but there was nothing. There was no pulse. He was dead. There was no denying it. He could not refuse to accept it.

"No! No. No."

He took Edmund in his arms, settling his head on his lap, refusing to look at his throat. Someone had slit his throat and left him to die. Someone had murdered the King of Narnia. Had murdered a child. Brushing back Edmund's damp hair, he said, "Come on, wake up. Edmund? Oh Aslan, what am I going to tell your siblings? What do I do? What do I do? Aslan, what do I do?"

He let the cold tears pour out, not even trying to resist the urge to cry for he knew it would be no use. The King was dead; he had been murdered at only seventeen.

"How could You let this happen, Aslan?"

And then a sudden light made him abruptly close his watery eyes obstructing his blurry vision. But his thin eyelids failed to block the brightness that it brought with it. The light filtered in through the lids. In another second, a surge of peace took hold of him. All his pain was forgotten. The tranquil wind whispered to him. His heartbeat slowed.

"Child, dear child, open your eyes."

The voice was like none other Dracus had heard in his entire twenty-one years. It was calming and incredibly peaceful. Truly majestic. He obeyed the voice without hesitation, and the sight he saw was the most magnificent one. It was the Mighty Lion himself. It was Aslan.

"Aslan!" he cried, suppressing the urge to bury his face in His mane. Instead, he stayed where he was and stroked back Edmund's dark locks again. Tears wetted his eyes as the peace left and the grief came back. Edmund was dead. Dead.

"Aslan, he is-"

"Do not weep, child."

"But he's gone…he's…dead," he said as he looked at the slit throat again and then instantly closed his eyes.

"Tell me, child, do you think I would abandon my own?"

Without thinking, he replied, "No."

"Then, why do you weep?"

"Because he's dead."

"Look again."

Dracus blinked at the ground and looked up to question the Lion but He was nowhere to be seen. Look again?

Dracus looked down at the pale face.

Edmund breathed.

* * *

_Waves crashed against the shore and the sound was supplying him peace. He had been lying down on the warm sand with his eyes closed as he listened to the serene ocean tides, for as long as he could remember. He didn't remember coming here but he didn't need to. He would stay here forever._

" _Child."_

_He recognized the voice instantly and knew he had never heard anything more beautiful. Struggling to his feet, he ran to the Lion and buried his arms in His mane. Aslan laughed and fell to the ground under Edmund's weight. He stayed like that, with his face concealed in His golden hair and arms wrapped around His mane. Then, reluctantly, he stood up._

" _Dear child, how do you feel?"_

_Edmund looked around, looked at the beautiful beach, one that he did not recognize. It was the calmest place he had ever been to._

" _I feel…at peace," he replied after the keen observation._

" _Walk with me, dear one."_

_Edmund obeyed and followed the Great Lion as they both headed towards the eastern side of the beach._

" _Do you know where you are, King of Narnia?"_

_Edmund looked around again and said, "No, Aslan. I haven't the slightest idea. Is this…is this your country?"_

_Aslan smiled. "No, dear one."_

" _Then where are we? I remember-" Edmund almost choked. He remembered the slash, the pain, the blood, the smile. He remembered his murder and he remembered his murderer…Peter._

" _Aslan…Peter…he…"_

" _Go on, child," Aslan said before Edmund could say anything more. He glanced in the direction that the Lion had gestured in and found himself staring at a dark cave._

" _Where does this go?"_

" _To where you need be, dear one."_

" _But Aslan…Peter…"_

" _Go on now, child. All will be set right."_

_The look in the Lion's eyes made it clear that he was not to question Him further. Edmund could rarely understand Aslan's ways but the utter faith that he had in the Lion presented him with no need to know. He bowed to Him and walked over to the cave. With one final glance, he headed into the darkness. Soon, it was cold and a dim light was flickering ahead. He surged forward._

* * *

He felt something wet fall on his face and he would have wiped his cheeks but his hands weren't free. Someone was holding them. With some effort, he managed to blink. Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked again because his bleary vision didn't allow him to recognise the figure hovering over him. But then, he saw him. Dracus. What was he doing there?

Tears were glistening in his eyes, but he also wore a wide smile. Edmund coughed and water splattered out. Dracus looked startled at first but then rubbed his back as he coughed out all the water in his lungs. Where was he? He looked at Dracus and blinked repeatedly, trying to refocus his vision. He then said, "What-what happened?"

Dracus laughed and hugged him. Edmund hugged him back, still confused. Pulling away, he repeated his question.

"You were dead."

The three words forced a swarm of memories on him, once he wished he didn't have. Peter couldn't have—oh Aslan, he couldn't have. But he had seen him. Seen him laugh as he cut his throat. Peter had said—

"Edmund?"

He cleared his throat, still trying to figure out how he was there. If Peter had killed him, how was he breathing?

"How?"

"Aslan…He was here. I think He brought you back."

Edmund smiled at him, wondering if he had been to His country but didn't remember.

"Who did this? Your brother will-"

"He won't."

"What?"

"He was the one…Peter was the one..." he trailed off. His own words were slicing his heart. O _h Aslan, no. Please no._

"But that's…it's impossible. He couldn't have. The High King couldn't have…"

"I don't want to belive it either. But...Dracus?"

"He told me to go West."

"What?" Edmund asked, shivering.

"West, Edmund. Aslan said we had to go West. But I think we need to go back to Cair Paravel. If King Peter really-"

"If Aslan wills it, we will go."

"Edmund-"

"We go West."


	7. Not Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn't want to believe it.

_"No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear."_

**_~C.S Lewis_ **

* * *

_Twenty-ninth day of Greenroof, 1006_

Rain poured down without a stop from the black, booming sky, and Peter stood there helplessly with one hand raised in surrender and the other reaching out to his brother and his captor. He was growing more desperate by the second, desperate to have his brother back in his arms where he could protect him.

"No, stop!" he cried as the foul creature started digging the knife deeper into Edmund's skin. He had his limp form collapsed against him. The creature, a ghoul, held his head up by his dark hair, revealing his throat, which was now bleeding, a thin line of blood trailing down all the way to his collar.

"Please, I'll do anything. Just don't hurt him."

The ghoul laughed as his grip on his brother tightened. Peter could only watch in overwhelming fury as the ghoul gestured possessively towards his brother, jeering him.

"There's nothing you can give me that'll be better than killing the little King. Jadis will be pleased."

"Jadis is dead! Please. Just leave him alone," Peter begged.

"What if I can offer you something better? What if I can tell you that you can be High King?"

The ghoul blinked. Looking intrigued, he grinned, revealing his decaying teeth. "Keep talking," he said, still holding Edmund's unconscious figure in a tight, his head still yanked back.

"You're a ghoul, right? You can shapeshift. What if you can take my form? You'll be High King, you'll have power. All you have to do is spare him. Just let him go. Let him come to me."

Every word that left Peter's mouth sounded utterly foolish. What was he thinking? How could he let sweet Narnia fall into this fell's hands? He would fail Aslan, fail his country. But Edmund—

The ghoul let go of Edmund's hair, making his head drop down limply. He was considering the deal.

"Do you agree?" Peter asked, his hands still raised. The ghoul looked at Edmund and then back to Peter. What was Peter doing? But he couldn't let Edmund, not his baby brother, not Eddie, not him.

"But I will need you, for the blood." Peter's head had started throbbing now. He swept off a raindrop from his lashes, clearing his blurred vision, and focused on Edmund, still in the grip of the hideous fell. He couldn't let him die. Not now, not ever.

"You can take me, just please, leave him."

The ghoul smiled triumphantly. "Throw your sword over to me," he said, motioning towards Rhindon that so proudly hung at his side. He swallowed and unsheathed the glimmering sword, the raindrops falling on the gleaming blade. Taking a careful aim, he threw Rhindon towards the ghoul. He grabbed it with his feet and tossed it up so he could catch it. It took all of Peter's willpower to not attack him for treating Rhindon like that.

The ghoul admired it for a moment. He looked like he was trying to read the ancient carvings on it and Peter smiled when he frowned and his brows knitted in confusion over his eyes. He was clearly failing.

"Alright, now, I need you to bind yourself with the rope over there and don't try anything or..." he said pulling up Edmund's head once again.

"Alright, just..." Peter said as he walked to the tree to grab the rope. He tied it around his wrists, trying to make it as loose as possible without alerting the ghoul. But the fell wasn't satisfied until, at last, his wrists were squished together, and hands were completely bound, unable to move freely.

"Now, let him go."

The creature smiled and shoved his brother to the ground. Edmund fell with a thud, and Peter rushed to him. He rolled him onto his back and brushed back his dark hair as well as he could with the tied wrists.

"It's alright now," he said as he touched his forehead to Edmund's and patted his cheek. He would have given anything to hear his laughter one last time.

"Come on," the ghoul said, grabbing him by his arm and hauling him to his feet. Then, Peter was being pushed away from his brother who lay still unmoving on the muddy ground, getting soaked in the lashing rain, unaware of what had just happened.

* * *

_Sixth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

"I missed you too, Peter," the creature hissed and Peter scowled in response. He had been captive for more than two months now, had been away from his family for more than two months. He wanted to hear Lucy's sweet, playful voice, wanted to feel Susan's motherly touch, wanted to see his brother's sarcastic smile again but they didn't even know he was gone.

"Why did you stop?" Peter asked. The ghoul would come every week to take more of his blood, to feed, to remain in this form. It was one of the reasons he was still alive. No, the _only_ reason he was still alive.

"I wanted to talk, Peter. Don't you want to talk? Don't you want to know what's happening to your family and kingdom?"

Peter didn't respond because he knew the ghoul would tell him anyway to add to his misery, to mock him, to tell him all that he was missing, all the things he had put his kingdom through by making that single decision two months ago. The one stupid decision that had led him here. To this brutal captivity. To this filthy room. He had thrown everything away. But did he regret it? Not when it saved Edmund's life.

"Do you remember my last visit?" the ghoul questioned as he stood up and ran the blunt side of the knife against his wrist. To see Edmund's gift in his possession, Peter's heart throbbed.

"You mean yesterday? No, I don't," Peter said with a sarcastic smirk on his face, trying to imitate Edmund.

"No, the one before that, before I went to Ettinsmoor to fight those horrid giants for this wretched kingdom." Peter let out a burst of soft laughter. The ghoul did not seem amused. "Do you remember when you tried to escape and killed my wife?" he asked.

Peter did remember. His bonds hadn't been tight enough so, after hours of effort, he was able to break free. He would have escaped, had the ghoul's horrid wife not caught him. She managed to delay him long enough for the ghoul to come back but not without losing her life first.

"I'm sorry?" Peter said with a hint of amusement on his pale face. The comment earned him a strike across his face. His lower lip was now bleeding.

"And do you remember when I told you that you would pay?" the ghoul asked, still pacing and admiring the knife. Peter didn't respond. He didn't like where this was going.

"Well, you paid."

Peter's heart wrenched. _"What did you do?"_ he demanded.

"Your brother is very loyal, you know, _too_ loyal," the creature said with an ugly grin. "He led away a giant! What a fool! Ready to give up his life for you. He survived the giant's blow, sadly." Peter's head snapped up. "Oh, did you think I let him live?" the ghould said. And then _tsked._ "I found him, broken and bloodied, slumped against an oak tree. But still breathing. He wanted me to save him, called out for me or should I say _you_? I told him I hated him, had wanted to kill him. You see, just killing him wouldn't be enough. I wanted to break him. And then…" he said as he once again pulled out the knife. "I slit his throat." He traced a circular path on Peter's neck. "Right about here. I threw him into the river and smiled as it turned red in his blood. Did you like the story, Peter?"

"You're lying!" Peter growled.

"Why would I lie, Peter? I told you you would pay. If you think about it, it was your own fault. You were the one who killed him, not me. Just like he thought you did."

"No! No. Please. No, no, no, no."

"Now that you know, let's get back to work, shall we?" Peter could barely hear the ghoul as his head pounded and heart threatened to stop beating any moment. Edmund was-no, he couldn't think that way. The ghoul was lying. Yes, he was lying. Peter let his head rest back against the wooden pillar as he felt the ghoul roll up his sleeve. He closed his eyes and bit back the familiar pain of the cut on his wrist. Blood instantly started pouring out but Peter didn't care. How could he after what the ghoul had just told him, be it a lie or the truth? The ghoul let the blood drip into the bowl until it was almost half full and then, tied a dirty handkerchief around the bleeding wrist to stop the blood flow, to make sure he wouldn't die.

"I am going to kill you! I'll kill you!" Peter snarled, his voice quavering as he continued to weep.

"We'll see about that," the ghoul said as he punched Peter across the face.

The world went dark.

He dreamt of his brother's death. And he saw him live again.

* * *

Peter moaned as he tried to move, tried to open his eyes. It took far too much effort for a task so small. Why did his jaw hurt so much? He blinked repeatedly until his vision cleared and he could see the crying figure, sprawled across his chest. He stroked her hair and whispered,

"Susan."


	8. Susan Finally Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan sees.

_"And sure enough, there it was, not the sought-after needle, but,_   
_to my agreeable astonishment,_   
_the haystack in the field by the lane."_

**~Robert Kroetsch**

* * *

_Sixth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Susan ran. She kept running, and never noticed the worried eyes that followed her. When finally she reached her younger brother's room, she stormed in, slamming the door shut. She threw herself onto his bed, the only thing that she could remind herself of him by.

More tears and sobs. More dread and heartache. More pain. _So_ much pain.

She wanted to believe it was all a hideous lie. But Peter had confessed. He had told her of his gruesome crime. Spilled the grotesque details. No more could she bear that pain, no more did she want this ache in her chest. She hid her face in the soft pillows and let more tears fall onto them silken bedsheet. Her voice felt bleak and bare as she sobbed. Silent screams left her throat. And then, suddenly, abruptly, there was peace. Utter peace. A majestic feeling. Something to ease her. Soothe her broken soul. What had changed? With her eyes still closed, she turned to her side and found herself leaning against something incredibly soft. It felt like a paw. A Lion's paw, she concluded. She managed to smile once before she drifted into a sweet slumber. Dreaming and remembering. Reminiscing.

* * *

_The lightning was followed by a growling thunder. The lightning came again, revealing the little girl's frightened face. The little girl wasn't alone. With her, stood her older sister, clutching to her tightly, leading her through the narrow hallways. Susan had always been the responsible one, not as responsible as Peter, of course. But she took care of her siblings when they needed her. And right now, little Lucy needed her. And Edmund—_

_Edmund always needed Peter. Not mum, or his sisters, or even dad, but Peter. And now he needed him more than ever. The wooden tile under her feet creaked and Lucy clutched to her even more tightly. Susan shushed her, explaining that it was only the floor. She urged her little sister to move forward. A low moaning sound reached her ears and she knew who the voice belonged to. If mum and dad knew what they were doing—_

_They finally reached the room. Susan slightly and gently pushed Lucy away from her and turned the doorknob as quietly as she could. The door creaked open and she peeked through. A small figure was curled up in his brother's arms, occasionally coughing and being comforted with a hushing sound. The droplets of sweats on his forehead, even in this raining weather, didn't go unnoticed by Susan. These two figures were her brothers._

_Susan pulled Lucy close once more and opened the door wide enough for Peter to notice her. He looked at her with surprise and only a shadow of anger in his eyes. Shaking his head, he said,_ " _Mum told you to not come, Su. And you even brought Lucy with you. What if she catches his fever?"_

" _Well, you're here. Won't you catch the fever?" Susan asked as she carefully maintained some distance from her brothers. She felt little Lucy move closer to her, burying herself into her arms. Susan hushed the four-year-old again and turned her gaze back to her brother._

" _It doesn't matter. I can't leave him," he said as he pulled Edmund closer and placed a gentle kiss on his hair._

" _It'll be alright, Ed. You'll be fine."_

_Susan could almost not believe that the speaker was only nine years old._

~o~

_The red liquid was dropped into his mouth and he went still, his gasps ceased and his muscles relaxed. Susan brushed his hair again, staring, waiting. She looked over to Lucy, little Lucy, her face showing nothing but shock. Then, her eyes turned to Peter. Never in her life, had she seen her older brother like that. His face was—she didn't even know what his expressions showed. There was shock, sorrow, terror-b_ _ut there was hope as well, even if only a hint of it._

_The brother in her lap stirred and coughed and she let herself breathe again. She laughed purely out of relief and was about to reach for her brother, to take him into her arms when he was pulled up. She looked up to see her brother clutching to Edmund tightly. Peter's blue eyes were wet with more tears. Susan could only smile._

" _When are you going to learn to do as you're told?"_

_Edmund only grinned at his brother in response but Susan knew his answer would be 'never'._

~o~

_Screams were what had woken her, had forced her to jump out of her bed in the middle of the night and head towards her brother's chamber, to where the distressing screams were coming from. Still trying to push away the dizziness, she rubbed her eyes and quickened her pace, desperate to be with her brother._

_Some more turns and Susan found herself dashing into the scream-filled room. In an instant, she was by her brother's side. She shook him, trying to bring him back to reality, to pull him out of his frightening nightmares. His eyes suddenly shot open, revealing those familiar chocolate brown irises. He sat up and she took him into her arms, cradling him, trying her hardest to somehow relieve him of his terrors._

" _Where's Peter?" her brother choked out between trembling breaths._

_And just on cue, the High King appeared through the open door. He rushed to his still trembling brother's side and took him from Susan's loving arms. Edmund didn't resist, neither did Susan. Peter rested Edmund's back against his chest and said,_

" _It's alright, Eddie. She's gone, gone forever. Aslan killed her, remember?"_

_She saw Edmund nod and Peter pulled the ten year old even closer to him. He hushed him, stroked his hair as he cradled him and lulled him to sleep. Susan watched in amazement as her little brother closed his eyes and drifted off in a matter of seconds. She turned to Peter who had a finger on his lips, signalling her to not make any kind of noise._

" _How do you do that?"_

_Peter only smiled._

* * *

Susan yawned softly and stretched her stiff arms as she gathered herself in a more formal posture of sitting. She blinked a few times and her vision cleared itself. She found herself staring at the green, wooden door. And she remembered. She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts, bring them into an order of semblance. All that she had seen, they were memories, memories reminding her of the love that brothers shared for each other. Peter could never have. Never. Couldn't even think of that. How could she even consider that to be true? How could she be so blind. So foolish?

"Then why?"

_It couldn't be him. So, it wasn't him!_

She shook her head again and rubbed her temples. If he wasn't Peter then who? She hopped off the bed and gathered her skirts in her hands, curling the fabric. Opening the door, she looked around, snapping her head to its sides. The corridor was empty, lit with the sunlight pouring in through the glass windows, some of which were hidden behind the long curtains. She stepped out, wondering what she should do. The troubling thought had distracted her, and she never noticed the approaching satyr. They bumped into each other and the Captain immediately said, "Oh, your Majesty, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's alright, Athelius. Have you seen my brother?"

"The High King?"

"Yes."

"I saw him head to the Woods near the River Rush. I would have asked him to take some guards with him, but I thought he only wanted to be alone."

Susan smiled slightly and replied, "Thank you, Athelius. Will you tell my sister that I'll be with my brother?"

"Of course, your majesty."

"And Athelius?" she said when the satyr began to walk away. "Tell me where the wolves are, will you?"

* * *

Hardly any sunrays could escape the thick canopy of the forest and the green was too much for her eyes to bear. Her feet dug into the wet mud and she mentally cursed herself for forgetting to wear boots rather than sandals. The wolf sniffed again, this time more loudly and gestured her to follow him. He had found the trail.

After a lot of trekking through the trees, the wolf stopped. He said, "The trail ends right here, Majesty."

She gazed around. The trees were all asleep. And other than the whooshing sound of the wind, it was utterly quiet. Susan gulped and walked around for some while, searching for a hideout. But she found nothing. Until a curious whisper came from her left. It was a squirrel, biting a nut. The squirrel _hissed_ at her again. And she felt compelled to go to him. But the squirrel startled and began to skitter away, hopping onto another branch. Susan stopped him with, "Wait, cousin. Please, can you help me?"

The little creature only craned his neck in the direction of the wind. Susan frowned. But glancing to her left, she saw a door. A really tiny one. Almost completely hidden behind the thick trees. But it was there. Painted brown. Shining. As if calling her to it. She turned to the wolf. "Go fetch the soldiers. I'll go in."

"But your majesty, I can't leave you here."

"It was an order."

The wolf hesitantly bowed and headed back into the direction they had come from. Susan swallowed again and heard the squirrel wish her good luck as she scurried to the small door. She opened it. And only darkness greeted her. She couldn't see anything, it was pitch black. She needed light. Desperately. She headed to her left, with her hands stretched out in front of her, looking for something, something that would give her light. And she felt it, the handle of a lantern. She slid her hands over the rough surface of the desk. A box of matches. She lit the blessed item and a yellow light, and the darkness faded away. She blinked, her pupils adjusting to the newly found light, and looked to her right. She saw—

"Peter!" she cried, making a dash to her brother.

The first thing she noticed was the enormous amount of blood dripping from his left wrist. Then that he was bound. The cruel ropes must be cutting his skin. There was a horrid gag in his mouth, almost falling out of his parted lips. His face was bruised and his lip was split. Red with blood. As Susan knelt down beside him, she removed the filthy gag from her brother's mouth who was still unmoving. She patted his cheek. When he didn't respond, she went on to untie his wrists.

"Peter?" she urged, cradling his face in her hands. His skin was too cold. "Peter?" she tried again but there was still no response. She brushed back his too-long hair from his forehead. "Peter?" Once again, her plea wasn't replied to. He couldn't be—

Swallowing, she hesitantly pressed two of her fingers onto his neck. She prayed and begged for a pulse, for—It was there, thank Aslan, it was there. She let out a sigh of relief and said, "Peter, wake up. Why won't you wake up?"

No movement.

"Please!"

Not even a twitch.

"Wake up!" she cried louder than she had intended and buried her face into her brother's shoulder. Unintended sobs escaped her lips and tears flowed out of her eyes, sliding freely down her cheeks. Not Peter as well. She couldn't bear it. Not both her brothers. Not when she had finally found him. The real him.

She felt a gentle touch. A caress.

"Susan."

Susan couldn't have felt more relieved. She looked up, into those familiar blue eyes, the eyes that were truly his. They weren't uncanny, weren't evil. He was Peter, her brother.

"Oh Peter!" she exclaimed, hugging him tight enough to make him groan. Realizing her mistake, she pulled back, sniffing. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, his movement showed pain. She needed to get him a healer.

Before she could act on her thought, a dagger flew past her, almost cutting her ear. It cut the air with a sharp sound. And she watched in sheer horror as it struck her brother's arm, making him scream. She tried to yell for him, to shout his name but strong hands grabbed her, throwing her to the ground. Her eyes refused to obey her and open. She tried to push back the pain in her ribs. There were loud, painful gasps. Peter _._

She had to get up.

Trying to move only earned her a kick in the stomach. She shrieked, turning to her side, gasping in pain. When she finally found the strength to open her eyes, fluttering her lashes. She saw her brother, his head limping to his shoulder, and another knife driven through his chest. It couldn't have missed the heart.

"No!" she screamed, but again, it only got her a kick. Someone pinned her to the ground. "No."

Blue, terrifying eyes were staring at her with lust. An obscene grin spreading across his face.

Her brother's false form, the foul creature hissed as he gently stroked her cheek, "You shouldn't have come here, _sister."_

"Stop," she pleaded when he cupped her cheek, bringing her face closer to him. No.

"Your beauty, it's extreme, Queen Susan. I could never act on my thoughts, could never-"

"Please…" she said, half crying by now. She would never recover from this.

He let his forehead touch her cheek. She felt his nose and his filthy lips against her skin. He couldn't do this.

"Please. Anything but this. I'm begging you."

"Shhh," he whispered in her ear. She could hardly bear it to be her brother's voice. He traced his finger from her forehead to her chin, his expression remained disgusting throughout. He couldn't do this, not this. He let his finger slip down to her neck and Susan flinched back but he held her there, his grip bruising her arms.

"Please…" she begged, sobs coming rapidly.

He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers, lingering, waiting. He was going to—

But a loud screech made her open her eyes.

What-?

The weight that had been pinning her down was gone. She blinked through her dirty tears but her vision remained blurred. She couldn't focus, not when he had almost— the trauma was still too fresh. Something warm and loving touched her cheeks, it wasn't the same touch as before.

"Susan! Do you hear me? Su?"

"Lucy?" she sobbed and her sister took her into her arms. She held her there as Susan cried. He had almost—

"Peter!" she shouted, pulling away from her sister, remembering the horrible sight of her brother. Within seconds she was by his side. Two daggers were buried in his shoulder and chest. She pulled them out, making his blood spill. He didn't even stir. He wasn't—

"No! Lucy, you have to-"

She didn't need to say anything more. Lucy had already uncorked the vial. She tilted it and let the liquid fall into his mouth. He didn't move, he didn't breathe. No, not both her brothers. Not Peter too. Not Peter. Susan exchanged another sorrowful look with her sister, her blue eyes were terrified. Seconds passed and Peter still didn't let out a breath. Susan's world swirled around her and her heart stopped.

"No!" she cried, throwing herself at her still brother. She heard Lucy sob as she herself cried freely. Not both her brothers. Not Peter too. Not Peter. She held on and more seconds passed, taking the little hope they had left with them.

He stirred.

There was a cough and Susan could swear it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. She pulled away and stared at her hazed brother as he continued to cough and sat up straighter. Both the sisters laughed as Peter blinked at them in confusion.

"What…Lu?"

"You're alright!" they both yelled, throwing themselves at the still puzzled brother. When they pulled away, he slightly frowned and then said,

"Where's Ed?"

Her little brother's name hadn't sounded crueller to her before. What were they going to tell him? How could they tell him? Susan looked at Lucy, she nodded.

"Oh Peter, he is…he's…"

"…dead," Peter finished and Susan blinked at him with astonishment. He knew?

"You…"

"You think he's dead. He isn't. We have to…"

"Peter, wait!" Lucy urged, pushing him back to the resting position.

"He's…he's gone, Peter," Susan said, blinking away the tears that were welling up behind her ears.

Susan blinked at him and Peter cast her a glance, a glance that urged her to trust him. She looked over to Lucy; she nodded.

All Susan could do was believe.


	9. It Wasn't Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't Peter and Edmund finally knows.

_"Whoever loves is brother is born of God, for love is from God."_

**_~Lailah Gifty Akita_ **

* * *

_Seventh day of Heimsavery, 1006_

"You're feverish, Peter," Lucy remarked as she stroked his forehead with her warm fingers. Peter only shrugged it away. There was little time.

"How do you know he'll be there?"

"Where else could he go? Lucy, what if-"

She kissed his cheek, and he smiled. It was reassurance enough.

"You never told us what happened…how?" Lucy said, curling into his arms. He stroked her golden hair and said, "We should wait for Su, don't you think?"

Just then, his chamber's doors flew open. They both shifted on the bed to allow Susan to join them. She smiled and said, "Wait for me for what?"

Peter smiled at her and said, "Well, when two months ago, I and Ed went on to hunt some of the fell down…there were some mishaps. A ghoul managed to capture Ed. I barely found him in time…" His voice faltered at that memory. "Anyway, I bargained with him, offered him to let him take my form if he would spare Ed. It wasn't me who came back to Cair after that."

Both his sisters nestled closer and Peter hugged them tightly. "He told me that..."

"It's alright, you don't have to say it," said Lucy with a comforting grin.

"He told me he did it because I killed his wife."

"He had a wife?" Susan asked, blinking at him. There was something in her eyes, an uncertainty of some sort. She was hiding something, both of them were.

"Yes, she was a ghoul as well, had taken a form of an Archenlandish duchess. I tried to escape a month ago, she got killed in the process."

"Oh Peter," Susan said, her head falling onto his shoulder.

"And Lucy, how did you find us? How did…?"

"…did I know?" Lucy chuckled slightly. "It was easy, Ed never baked cakes."

Peter didn't understand but the smirk on Lucy's face told him it was a story worth hearing but not now. Now, he needed to find his brother.

"Do you think they're done?"

And as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. He asked them to enter. It was Athelius, he had come to tell him they were ready. Peter nodded and he left. Lucy looked at him with grimness and Susan only reassured him with a slight nod. He knew they didn't want him to leave but Edmund needed him and he needed his little brother.

* * *

_Tenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Edmund cleared his throat and nudged Dracus in the ribs as he directed him to his left with a shift in his gaze. It was Briella, giggling at him as she gathered more wood. When she saw him looking at her, she abruptly turned away and moved out of sight. Edmund could only shake his head at Dracus. When would he learn to get around girls?

"Leave it alone, Edmund," he said as he shifted the bundle of wood in his hands and scowled. Running a hand through his hair, Edmund replied, "She clearly likes you, why won't you talk to her?"

"Well, I'd say she was looking at you. You're the king."

Edmund smiled grimly and said, "No, I'm not, not anymore. King Edmund is dead, Narnia thinks him dead."

Dracus returned the gesture with an equally grim smile and urged him to head back home. Edmund nodded and they began moving towards their small settlement. It was no more than thirty wooden houses, spread throughout the dense woods but it was enough. It was home. It was Edmund's home.

A loud bark made Edmund drop down his bundle of branches. "Jet!" Edmund exclaimed as he clapped his hands together and let the dog throw herself into his arms. He staggered back a little but then quickly gained his balance. Kneeling down, he ran his hand through the dog's soft, thick hair and said, "You're in good mood!" The dog licked his face in reply, the saliva's smell almost forcing him to puke.

He heard Dracus laugh and patted the dog on her back. Her tongue lolled in excitement but Edmund merely told her to go back home. It took two more pleas and a wooden stick thrown towards their hut to convince her.

"That dog," Edmund said, rubbing his sleeve against his face, the smell still bothering him. Dracus snickered and Edmund frowned but could not force down a laugh. The two boys went on towards the chief's house, where they finally let the bundle of wood free their hands. Dracus patted his shoulder slightly as he went on to wash his hands.

Edmund looked to his right and saw her again, Briella, still staring but Dracus was—the idiot was right. Edmund scratched his head and looked down awkwardly. Briella too turned away, blushing a little too much.

"You're an idiot, Edmund Pevensie. An idiot, I tell you," he said to no one.

He gazed around, letting the mesmerizing sight of the forest please him. The smell of wet mud mixed with the smell of leaves and grass provided for an amazing scent. The birds chirped and somewhere in a distance, a dog barked, Jet, he realized. He felt good, better than he had in months, better than he had when Peter—

No, he wouldn't remember. Not now, not ever. He wouldn't remember the knife, the words, the slash, the pain, the blood, the cold water piercing his skin like a thousand needles, the smile or the look of hate. He would forget, he had to.

This was home now, not Cair, not his sisters, not Peter.

* * *

_Tenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Peter closed his eyes, listening to the gallop of the horse. They were almost there. He felt relief when he thought of seeing his brother again, alive and healthy but shuddered when he thought of his brother seeing _him_ again. What if Edmund didn't believe him? What if he wasn't ready to forget? What if they could never be brothers again?

No, he couldn't think like that. Aslan would help them. He always helped them. Barely making any sound, he muttered a prayer to the Might Lion.

"Please Aslan, help us get through this, help us be a family again, brothers again."

A dull sound interrupted his prayer. He instantly dismounted the horse and shushed him. Tying him to the tree, he pulled out his sword. Rhindon gleamed and Peter took careful steps ahead. The twigs crunched beneath his feet and he could only hope the sound wasn't loud enough to reveal where he was. He wondered if the dense forest would be enough to conceal him.

He couldn't take another step for a tackle had just forced him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. Peter tried to breathe but the weight pushing him down was too heavy. He felt a cold metal against his throat and a sickening feeling took hold of him. He prepared himself for the slash but instead of the expected fatal attack, he received a hard punch.

Then another and another. It hurt too much.

Then, someone was hauling him to his feet. He was pushed back, his back forced against something coarse, a tree, he realized. The cold metal was felt again.

"You're going to die for what you did," a voice said. It sounded familiar but he couldn't remember who it belonged to, not with the pain engulfing him. He let his head limp ahead when dizziness started to take over. Unconsciousness was coming.

He felt the sharp knife dig into his skin, slowly. He remained unmoving, waiting.

"NO! Stop!"

The voice, that voice he could recognize anywhere, even with the pain, even with death so close. It was his brother's. The realization made him smirk slightly.

The world then went dark.

* * *

"Edmund!" someone shouted and he looked to his right. A panting Emil was making his way to him. He stopped short when he reached him, still gasping.

"You…your…your brother…"

Edmund's heart stopped, his limbs froze and his eyes closed themselves at those words. His brother, his murderer.

"What…where?" he asked, trying his hardest to push back the horrible memory.

"Dracus…he found him. I'm almost certain he's beating him to death this very moment."

_Dracus, you fool!_

Without another word, Edmund dashed into the forest, in the direction Emil had pointed in. His legs paced and his head swirled. He had to find them before—

He heard punches, hard ones. There were painful moans, his brother's voice, his murderer's voice. Why did his heart still ache at the thought of him hurt? He had killed him, murdered him as he lay there pleading, begging. He had hated him, all his life, had despised him when he loved him, had killed him when he would have died for him then why-?

_It's alright, Eddie. I'm here, I'm here._

All lies, every soothing touch, every comforting word, they were all lies. Oh Aslan, why?

His legs stopped and he stared ahead in horror. Dracus held a knife to an unconscious Peter's throat, ready to slash it, ready to kill him. Dracus was going to murder his brother, exactly like Peter had murdered him. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't let Peter—

"NO! Stop!" he cried desperately as he ran forwards towards them. His breaths were coming out rapidly and his heart was racing. What had Dracus done? What had he done to his brother?

Dracus let Peter fall to the ground as he realized what he was just about to do. He stared at his hands, at the knife as Edmund knelt down beside the slumped Peter. He checked him for a pulse. It was there.

He gazed back at Dracus, he was still shaken. What was he thinking? Edmund looked back at his brother. He examined his bruised face and concussed head. When Edmund's hands left it, his head limped back.

"Dracus, help me get him up. Dracus!"

The said twenty-one-year-old stared at him and slightly nodded, coming back to his senses. They both lifted him up with both his arms tossed around Dracus and Edmund's shoulders. They took him to their hut, all the while shooting hushing glares at the suspicious observers. Finally, they reached the small house and Edmund laid his brother down gently onto a cot.

"Get Briella," Edmund told Dracus. He nodded again and left. Edmund then went on to grab a towel. He wetted it with the water and cleaned the gash on Peter's neck with it. Still dabbing the cloth against his brother's neck, he let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his still racing heart. When he was done, convinced that no more blood would seep through now, he settled back on the wooden chair, beside the cot. Another sigh escaped his lips and he ran his hand through his hair. What was he going to do?

"Edmund!" Briella exclaimed as she dashed through the narrow doors of the hut. She looked over at his brother and then him. With a slight nod from Edmund, she understood what she was needed to do. Briella was the healer of their tribe, the best one. Medicines and herbs were her specialities but she could treat small wounds as well. Edmund watched patiently as she examined his brother. Slightly moving his head, she said,

"There might be a concussion. The punches Dracus threw were hard but I think he'll be okay. You did right, cleaning that gash, I mean. Why was Dracus trying to kill him anyway?"

Edmund shook his head, signalling that he didn't know. They hadn't told anyone about what Peter had done, only that Edmund needed to stay here. The tribe, being as gracious as ever, had accepted them back without any questions. Edmund knew if they were told, a rebellion in the west would be something that Narnia would fail to avoid. With the Ettins already draining their resources, that was the last thing they needed.

"Where is he, Dracus?" Edmund asked as he shifted his thoughts.

"He said he needed to be alone. He looked pretty shook," Briella replied, settling against the cot. Edmund smiled slightly and sighed subsequently.

A loud bark.

"Jet!" he cried in protest when the dog started licking his face again. Edmund hadn't been fast enough to avoid her sudden tackle. He scowled in frustration and Briella snickered. He pushed back the dog and commanded her to leave. With a wiggling tail, she obeyed. Edmund sighed again and washed his face, desperate to get rid of the awful smell.

"She won't stop doing that," he said, again taking his place on the chair.

"That's her way to show love, Edmund. You might as well get used to it," Briella replied. Then, her gaze shifted to Peter again. With an inspecting stare shot at his brother, Briella said,

"He's your brother, isn't he? The High King?" Edmund only nodded. "Dracus was going to kill the High King? He would have been executed. You…you're not mad at him?"

Edmund considered his options. He could either tell her the truth and get the burden off his chest or lie, and let himself be engulfed by anxiety.

"I…Briella, can you promise to keep a secret?"

She nodded silently and looked at the High King once again, then back at Edmund. Edmund continued, "He…he mur…tried to kill me."

Briella gasped and moved away from the cot, a hand on her mouth. Her previously soft expression turned into one filled with shock and anger.

"He…you…oh, Edmund. That's why you came here," she said in realization and he nodded to confirm her statement. It felt better, now that she knew. She had deserved the truth. She had been nothing less than a friend to Edmund in the seven days that they had stayed here.

_I hated you with all I had._

Edmund abruptly closed his eyes and resisted the wish to cover his ears. He couldn't…he couldn't be here—

"I need to…can you take care of him? I…I don't know why he's here, but as soon as he wakes up, tell him to leave. If he doesn't oblige, make him."

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the enormous amount of wood, then the rough cot he was lying on. He moaned as the cut on his neck burned and touched the back of his head when a sharp pain interrupted his attempt of getting up. He licked his split lip and tasted the blood. Flexing his aching jaw, he stood up and looked around.

It was a small, a very small hut with two cots on either side of the single room and a lantern lying on the wooden table that rested between the cots. There was a chair as well, it was wooden. The place was exactly like Edmund had described it innumerable times to him and his sisters. Peter smiled subconsciously but the smile soon disappeared when he realized he needed to find his brother. Loud footsteps stopped him from heading out.

The door burst open and he startled back. It was Dracus.

"Silverblade!" Peter exclaimed, happy to see a friendly face except…he didn't look too inviting.

_You're going to pay for what you did._

It was him. He was the one who had almost killed him. They still think—

"You're awake. Good. It's time you left," Dracus said as he began pushing him out of the hut. Moving out, he noticed that the moon was shining brightly in the mid-sky and the stars were twinkling, glinting in the corner of his eyes. It was night, how long had he been unconscious? Before he could protest, he was already at the edge of the woods, his horse tied to one of the trees.

"Leave before I change my mind about sparing you," Dracus said and Peter put his foot down in determination. He needed to explain—

But before he could even open his mouth, he saw him, Edmund.

Before he knew it, his legs were already taking him towards his brother. He heard protesting cries from behind but he utterly ignored them. As soon as he was in his reach, Peter crushed his brother against him, clutching to him more tightly than he ever had. He could feel the struggles, could feel his brother trying to wiggle out of his grasp but he held on.

Burying his face into his shoulder, he said, "It wasn't me. Oh Eddie, It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. _It wasn't me."_

The struggles seized and he continued, "It was a ghoul, Edmund. It wasn't me. I love you, little brother. I would never hurt you, would never… I'd much rather die than cause you any kind of pain. I love you, Eddie. I love you."

When his brother remained silent and didn't move, not even a little, in his hold, Peter pulled away. Taking his brother's stunned face in his hands, he said, "Hey…hey, Edmund? Eddie? Do you hear me? It wasn't me. Edmund!"

"It…it wasn't…it…" he said as his breaths grew louder and trembling. Peter pulled him in for another hug and this time Edmund hugged him back. Peter kissed his hair and repeated, "It wasn't me, Ed. It could never be me. I love you, Eddie."

Edmund sunk down to the ground and Peter still held him close as he collapsed. Hugging him tighter and resting his head against his temple, he said,

"I love you, little brother, not hate you. I could never hate you. Never."

Edmund only cried.


	10. Loved, not Despised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund finally has his brother back.

_"Mum used to say we were the same soul split in two and walking around on four legs. It seems unnatural being born together and then dying apart."_

**_~ Melodie Ramone_ **

* * *

_Tenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

There was scarcely any sound other than the cold wind sighing and brushing past the rustling leaves. Edmund still kept moving, rubbing his hands and making sure that the cloak covered his ears. It was too cold to be roaming out but he needed to feed her, feed Jet. The poor dog had been barking for almost ten minutes now.

Edmund was just about to reach the hut when sudden footsteps made him turn. He barely had enough time to recognize the figure that was hurrying towards him to be his brother before Peter pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. Edmund was confused, shocked and afraid at the same time. He tried to struggle his way out, to somehow, get away from his brother, his murderer. He needed to—

"It wasn't me, oh Eddie, It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. _It wasn't me."_

 _It wasn't…It wasn't him?_ Then, in an instant, he froze and his world froze around him. Peter went on to explain further but Edmund couldn't hear anything. In a second's time, he realized everything he had done, had believed, was...how could he even…? How could…?

All the beautiful memories, every loving word, every protective touch, it all came back to him, crushing him down, haunting him, jeering him, making him hate himself. How could he…? Something inside him was breaking, a wall. He was being crushed under the invisible weight of the memories and the horrible feeling of guilt they brought with them.

Peter pulled away, his blue eyes filled with concern. He felt his hands on his face.

"Hey…hey, Edmund? Eddie? Do you hear me? It wasn't me. Edmund!"

Edmund couldn't breathe, his chest felt too heavy, heavy with the burden of what he had believed. Barely making any sound, he managed to choke out,

"It…it wasn't…it…"

He felt Peter pull him back for a hug. Edmund hugged him back, clutching to him, trying to push back the haunting thoughts. His brother was here, his real brother. He was loved, not hated, not despised. Loved, not despised.

Peter kept repeating the same words, the words telling him that he loved him, could never hurt him, that it wasn't him. And Edmund—Edmund believed him. Edmund believed him and his belief was paining him further, pushing on him the guilt again, disgusting him with the previous hate he held in his heart for his brother, _his_ _brother_ , Peter. _Oh, Peter._

The pain in his heart was too much; he was pulled to the ground when his legs couldn't support his weight anymore. He felt Peter's strong arms still clutching to him when he sunk down. He held onto him as well. Clutching to his shirt, he buried his face into his shoulder. He felt his brother's forehead against his temple. The touch far too comforting, far too soothing. Peter always did manage to calm him when he was pulled down into the deepest terrors. How had he forgotten that?

"I love you, little brother, not hate you. I could never hate you, never."

Edmund didn't know what else to do but cry even harder for every loving word that came out of his brother's mouth was slowly piercing his heart, overwhelming it with the guilt. He hoped that the tears would take away the ache, the sense of betrayal, the hate he had for himself now.

So, he let tears fall and let his brother comfort him as he cried.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, how long he let himself be engulfed by the protective arms of his brother, how long he had cried and tried to wash away the immense grief and guilt. He was a traitor, a traitor to his brother.

A gentle kiss was placed on his hair and words followed.

"It's alright. I'm here, Ed. I love you. I love you, Eddie."

Sobs came out even more rapidly after those words. How had he managed to hate his brother? How had he managed to look at him as his murderer? How could he-?

"Edmund?"

Peter pulled him away even when Edmund didn't want to and took his face in his hands once again. Edmund sniffed and wiped his wet face with his sleeve. He looked into the familiar blue eyes, eyes that were loving, protective and pure; not evil, not atrocious, not murderous.

"What is it? Edmund, talk to me."

Edmund had no words, his lips were frozen, speech wouldn't come so easily for a while. He only hugged Peter back in response.

"Ed?" Peter urged again, stroking his hair while still holding him. "It's alright, it is. Don't cry, don't cry now."

Edmund couldn't oblige, at least not for another fifteen minutes.

* * *

Peter silently made his way to the hut after the bath he had so desperately needed, especially after the tackle Edmund's dog, Jet, had given him. His lips twitched to show disgust when he thought of the enormous amount of saliva that had covered his face.

He opened the door upon reaching the hut and smiled when he found his brother fast asleep on one of the cots. Taking a seat beside him, on the chair, he brushed back his hair. He looked too innocent, no older than the ten-year-old who had stumbled into the Narnia six years ago. He could almost not wait for Lucy and Susan to see him again.

Edmund stirred under his touch and Peter grinned slightly. Edmund had stayed there, crying for almost thirty minutes, it was too much for Peter, to see his little brother break down like that, to not let a few tears fall himself. After the rather tiring reunion, Dracus had urged they head back inside for it was getting too cold to stay outside.

He had heard him explain to the blonde girl, Briella, as Edmund had told her, that it wasn't Peter who had mur-

Even mentally, he couldn't say the word, not when his brother's name followed immediately after. A part of him knew why Edmund had let himself breakdown like that, why he had cried like that. There was guilt in his voice. He was punishing himself for ever believing Peter to be a murderer. But after what he had seen, after what he knew what had happened to his brother, he couldn't blame him. Not when he had seen Peter cut his throat and smile afterwards.

"I'm not wearing this, Susan. I don't care if my life depends on it."

Peter couldn't hold back a laugh at his brother's murmuring voice. Lucy had been right; he really did say the oddest of things in his sleep. Stroking his hair again, he whispered, "I love you, Eddie."

A creaking sound made him look away from his still murmuring brother who had also started frowning in his sleep. The door opened and Dracus emerged in. He smiled at the knight and looked back at his brother, he was still scowling.

"High King…" Dracus began.

"You know you can call me Peter, Dracus," Peter said, never turning his gaze away from Edmund who stirred again. In private, he preferred that his titles be dropped.

"Yes, your ma…Peter," Dracus replied. To Peter's surprise, Silverblade knelt before him. Keeping his head bowed, he said in a soldier's voice,

"High King, I have utterly failed you by letting my faith in your majesty waver. I attacked you, attacked my king, tried to kill you, a task at which I would have succeeded, had it not been for your royal brother. I do not deserve to even stand in your presence, sire, to be called a loyal knight. I subject myself to you. I will accept whatever fate you decide for me after the crimes I have committed."

"I forgive you," Peter said as he smiled at the kneeling knight and turned back to his brother to give his hair another stroke. He almost wished his brother was awake.

Abruptly standing up, Dracus looked at Peter with bewilderment shining through his light eyes. "What? But why? I tried to kill you, would have killed you if Edmund…King Edmund hadn't… I don't think I can forgive myself for that," Dracus said, his voice stunned.

Peter smiled again when he said, "You did what you did out of love, Silverblade. I don't think I would have acted any differently if I knew someone had… it's alright, you needn't worry. What's done is done. You're still a loyal soldier and a friend."

He heard Silverblade gasp beside him and could almost see him, from the corner of his eyes, stagger back in astonishment. Why did he bear that guilt? He heard him gain a much more stable posture and clear his throat before saying, "You're too forgiving, my King. I cannot accept your forgiveness, your majesty. I must be put to trial for my crimes."

Peter almost scowled. But instead, he said, "Dracus, you saved my brother, that certainly outdoes your _'crimes'."_ He was sure to emphasize the last word in a way that would indicate that he did not consider his actions crimes.

"I…your majesty, I have no words. I'm sorry is all I can offer to your most gracious highness," Dracus said after a long moment of silence which was, however, interrupted when Edmund murmured something humorous enough to make both Peter and Dracus laugh even in an atmosphere so tense.

Peter smiled at him and turned back to his brother when he murmured something again.

"And Dracus?" Peter said when he noticed that the knight was about to leave.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I don't think I would have survived it if-"

"I did what I did out of love."

* * *

_Eleventh day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Edmund slowly opened his eyes; his pupils took some time to adjust to the intensely bright sunlight. He wondered why the door had been left open. Scowling in exhaustion, he sat upright on the cot and discovered that his back was sore. His eyes were still tired and he knew why. Yawning with his hands stretched out, he got up and put on his boots which, to his unpleasantness, were dirty. He frowned again at that realization.

He had barely gotten out of the hut when a certain too-excited dog forced him to the ground with a sudden tackle. His face was once again covered in the horrible smelling saliva and Edmund held his breath to avoid smelling it. He pushed off the dog and gained his feet once the pinning weight was gone. Looking back at Jet, he rubbed her back and she wiggled her tail. Edmund smiled when she barked in appreciation, and said in a stern voice, "You know, Jet, you ought to stop licking everyone." He let his hands rest on his hips as he watched her go, tail still wiggling.

"Ed! You're awake!"

_Peter._

He tried to pretend that he didn't hear him, to somehow avoid talking to his brother but Peter was not one to give up that easily. When Edmund didn't turn, he approached him. Grabbing his shoulder and forcing Edmund to turn to him, he said,

"I was just talking to Briella and Dracus. They told me we can leave in two hours. Lucy and Susan will be so…Ed?"

His name finally caught his attention. He hadn't been listening to Peter; he was formulating a plan to limit his interactions with his brother.

"Edmund? I say, are you alright? What's wrong? You're too pale," Peter said, letting the back of his hand touch Edmund's forehead. Peter sighed when he didn't find his temperature too high. He raised his brow at Edmund and Edmund said,

"It's nothing. We…I'll go wash my face. I'm covered in dog saliva."

Peter nodded, letting go of Edmund's arm. What was he going to do?

* * *

Edmund thanked the elderly lady, whose name was too long for him to remember, as he accepted another gift. The tribals had been too gracious, had insisted that their kings take some souvenirs with them. Peter and Edmund had agreed, even if reluctantly. He smiled for the hundredth time that day when another shawl made its way into his hold.

The sun was at its highest and it was the perfect time to begin a three-day long journey, especially in the last month of the year, the coldest one as well. So, as soon as Edmund accepted the last gift and placed it onto the enormous pile of shawls, he hurried to his brother and Dracus who smiled when they saw him approach. He smiled in return. Peter clapped his hands together before saying,

"I thank you, my good people. We will forever be in your debt for you accepted the Just King when he asked for your aid. You are noble people, my friends. You will be welcomed in Cair Peravel, should you choose to pay us a visit."

The people all smiled and muttered undistinguished words conveying their thanks and appreciation.

Edmund and Peter mounted their horses simultaneously, glancing at Dracus. He smiled at them. Dracus had promised to return back to the West soon. He'd decided to stay. For now. He'd come back if they ever needed him.

With a kick to the horse's back, the brothers galloped ahead, into the forest, towards Cair, towards home, Edmund's home.


	11. Home At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last.

_"Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained."_

_~C.S. Lewis_

* * *

_Eleventh day of Heimsavery, 1006_

The running stream was being stared at by two satisfied eyes, both eager to drink the clean, blue water and satisfy their ever-increasing thirst. But before they could do that, Edmund had seen fit to first examine the water. They were far out in the west, still, after half a day's journey and drinking water from unknown sources could prove to be a bad idea, even a fatal one. He had learned that from his General.

The transparent vessel gleamed as Edmund dipped it into the stream and then pulled it out with water filling it to the brim. After some examination that he knew would be beyond his brother's understanding, he nodded at the frustrated twenty one-year-old. He sighed and Edmund could almost make out his mutters to say 'finally'.

"Oh come on, it didn't take that long," Edmund said, pouting. Peter clapped his shoulder and nodded his head in false agreement. Then, the brothers were kneeling beside the stream, taking a handful of water in their palms and drinking it hastily enough to make the two of them choke. When his throat wasn't dry anymore, he pulled out the empty bottle and filled it with water. After having done the same for two more vessels, he headed back to the horses and the camp they had set.

The fire roared when he settled beside it, on the makeshift bed. He looked up at the stars and felt his heart beat faster when he thought of Cair and his sisters. What was he going to say to them? How was he going to explain why he had let them think he was dead and headed back to the Odawas? From what Peter had told him, they had been shattered, both of them. He sighed, hoping Aslan would grant him strength to face them.

"Edmund?" Edmund almost cursed when he heard his brother's voice and realized his eyes weren't closed. He should have been pretending to be asleep but that was not an option now, was it?

"Yes?" he said to his brother who had taken a seat opposite to him, his eyes fixed on the flaming, red fire.

"I…are you alright?" Peter said, his gaze suddenly shifting to Edmund.

"Yeah…of course," Edmund replied, closing his eyes, wishing that Peter would think he needed to sleep and leave.

"Edmund, you've been…"

But a rustling sound interrupted his brother.

"What do you think it was?" Edmund asked, sitting up.

"Some movement near the stream. We should-"

"Let's go then," Edmund said as he gained his feet and put on his sword belt once again. He looked over to his brother who was scowling, obviously frustrated that they didn't get to finish their converse. Peter nodded and gripped Rhindon's hilt tightly.

* * *

He heard it again. It sounded like some animal wandering through the woods, looking for something, following a trail. If it was a wild, Edmund was going to have to smack his head for insisting that they split up. Peter had been right, it was a bad idea. He was about to turn around, to go look for his brother when he was tackled.

* * *

He heard the yell. _Edmund,_ his mind shouted. He made a dash through the woods, towards his brother. He kept darting forwards, giving no heed to the scratches and bruises he gained in the process.

"Edmund!" he shouted when he saw a dark figure sprawled on the ground with—

"Is that-?" Peter said as he moved closer and started laughing, half out of relief and half out of amusement. The moonlight lit his brother's face and he scowled when his numerous protests didn't have any effect on the situation.

"Jet!" Edmund protested again and this time, finally, she moved off Edmund's chest. Peter laughed again as he helped Edmund on his feet. Edmund let out a disgusted sound as he rubbed his sleeve against his face. When Edmund finally looked at him again, Peter said, "You gave us quite a scare there. Are you alright?"

"Well, other than the scraped back and salivated face, yes," Edmund replied sarcastically.

Peter laughed again and knelt down beside the dog. He rubbed her back and looked back at Edmund.

"How did she even find us?" Edmund said, as he went on to brush off the remaining dust from his clothes.

"She must have followed our trail. Poor dog couldn't think of being without you, Ed," Peter replied with a large smirk. Then Edmund proposed they head back before something else decided to attack them. Peter didn't argue.

* * *

_Twelfth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

After four hours of continuous trekking, they had decided to finally rest. The forest was less dense here. _Two hours of rest would be enough,_ Edmund had suggested. So now here they were nearly two hours later with Edmund still fast asleep and slightly snoring. Peter knew he must have been exhausted to not wake up already.

He heard Jet bark in a distance, the dog had run off chasing a butterfly. He sighed.

"Ed?" His younger brother opened one eye, giving him a weary yawn.

"We should move. We're late already, judging by the sun," Edmund said as he began getting up. But Peter urged him to sit.

"We need to talk," Peter said firmly.

"About what exactly?"

"About why you've been avoiding me," Peter said, raising his brows at his brother.

"I…"

"Edmund, you can't still be…how could you feel guilty, Ed? How was this at all your fault?"

"Peter…"

"What?" Peter demanded, his voice getting louder.

"Pete…"

"What could possibly make you avoid me? Ed…are you still…do you still think…it wasn't me..."

"I know! Aslan, I know," Edmund said, his voice a little louder than Peter had expected it to be and his eyes slightly wet, his eyes filling little glimmering teardrops. His brother breathed a heavy sigh before continuing, "I know it wasn't you, Peter. I know now."

"What-?" Peter questioned, genuinely curious now.

" _i hated you, Peter!"_ Edmund shouted loud enough for some of the birds to leave the trees and fly away, flapping their wings to disrupt the new-found silence. It stretched as Peter continued to stare at him, blinking, bewildered. Then Edmund spoke up again, "For ten days, I hated you! Called you a murderer. How could I…" Edmund buried his face in his hands once but then quickly lifted up his head to look his brother in the eyes and continued, "How could I not know? How could I believe that? How could I let myself hate you, Peter?"

"If you hated me, why didn't you let Dracus kill me?" Peter asked with a smile.

Edmund didn't reply.

"And why couldn't you bear the idea of me hurt? Why did you let them heal me? Why did you tell Briella take care of me?" He heard a low and very vague sob before continuing. "Even after what happened…even after you saw me…slit your throat, you didn't hate me, Ed because you couldn't. Somewhere deep down, you knew it couldn't have been me. You knew, Ed. You just failed to realize it." The words seemed to calm Edmund somewhat and Peter shifted closer to his brother. Taking him into a light embrace, he said, "I don't blame you for that, Ed. Not after I saw what happened to you, not after I had to see you get… he had my face, my voice…" Peter would have continued but Edmund interrupted him with a sudden hug. He buried his face into his shoulder and Peter shushed him when he heard loud sobs.

"It's alright. I love you, Ed. I do," Peter said and felt Edmund nod into his shoulder.

When, some minutes later, Edmund finally pulled away and sniffed, Peter smiled at him reassuringly. Edmund smiled back and shook his head.

"I have got to stop crying like that," he said and Peter only laughed. "Pete…" He raised his brows. "Susan and Lucy…do you think they'll be mad?"

"Oh, they'll be furious." Edmund frowned. "But they'll be more relieved than angry."

* * *

_Fourteenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Edmund couldn't hold back a large grin when he saw Cair. He was home, finally home. He urged his horse to gallop faster and saw Peter smile at him in his most appealing way. He raced Peter to the gate and laughed when he won. Looking back at his older brother, he could see he didn't mind. He dismounted his horse and Peter did the same.

There was a loud bark and he looked down to see a wiggling tail and lolling tongue. He rubbed Jet's back and she barked again. He smiled at her and looked at Peter. He nodded and moved ahead. Typically, there would have been more guards at the gate but with most of their troops still fighting in the North, they had settled for only two. The two guards stared open mouthed at him and he bowed.

"Your…your Majesty," they said, stuttering as they bowed. "High King," they said while bowing to his brother. Peter smiled and they walked in.

They reached the garden after sometime and Edmund found himself staring at a stone. He let his hand slide over it and looked at Peter who smiled grimly. Reading the carvings, he could only smile to himself. It was his grave. He wondered why they hadn't removed it yet. He looked questioningly at Peter who shrugged. Maybe Susan and Lucy still didn't believe—

"Edmund!"

Instantly, he turned around to see his younger sister running with her skirts gathered in her hands and an expression of immense relief on her face. She jumped at him and he caught her, laughing. _Being fifteen years old, she should be heavier than this_ , Edmund mused. After the long, choking hug, she pulled back and looked at him with her beautiful blue eyes. She brushed his hair and cupped his cheek, her eyes shining with fresh tears. She then went on to kiss his cheeks and forehead.

"Lucy, oh Lu, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," he said, taking her into his arms for another hug.

"Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you-? We missed you so much, Ed. Don't ever leave us again, please don't ever leave us again," Lucy said between sobs and Edmund caressed her hair. Kissing her temple, he said,

"I promise I won't, Lu. I'm sorry, so sorry."

"Susan," he heard Peter say and gently pulled Lucy away to find his older sister staring at him with an open mouth and teary eyes.

"Hullo, Su."

* * *

Susan couldn't believe her eyes, he was here, he was actually here. She was staring at the same slender figure, the same pale face, the same brown eyes, the same dark locks. He hadn't changed, not one bit. A loud sob escaped her lips and she shakily extended her hand towards him. He took it and placed it onto his cheek. His skin was warm. The touch was familiar. He really was here.

"Edmund?"

"Susan, I'm so…"

She shushed him and cupped his cheek with her hands. She brushed back his hair and wiped away a tear from his cheek.

"Susan…"

She pulled him in for a very tight hug. She held on for dear life, for she feared that if she let go, he would be snatched away from her again. She felt him kiss her shoulder and realized how tall he had gotten. She smiled slightly and pulled him even closer. Kissing his cheek and never letting him go, she said,

"You're really here. You're here. You're here. You're here."

"I'm sorry, Su. I should have come back. Please sister, will you forgive me?"

She nodded slightly and hugged him tighter if that was even possible.

"I love you, Ed. Please don't leave again, ever."

This was where he belonged, in her arms, where she could protect him, could be sure he would always be there. She would never let him go again, ever. After a long moment, she finally pulled away. Her hands made their way to his shoulders and she steadied him, forcing him to stay still. After some inspection, she said,

"Look at that, Ed. You're almost as tall as me."

Her brother laughed, knowing that he was taller even if by an inch.

There was a sudden push from the side and she was hugging Edmund again. Beside her, she found Lucy clutching to both of them, smiling fondly. She rested her head on hers and felt Peter wiggle his way into the group huddle. They stayed like that, letting each other's warmth calm them, reassure them.

Susan felt complete.

* * *

"What does it say, Pete?" Edmund asked and heard Susan and Lucy whisper the same question from behind.

After the long reunion, they had retreated to their chambers, although his siblings had found their way onto his bed with him after a while. Six hours later, after also introducing Jet to Lucy (who seemed to absolutely adore the dog) and Susan, they were dining when the letter arrived, brought in by a swallow.

"Peter?" Edmund urged. His brother looked up from the letter and stared at him, his expression was a mix of many emotions.

"We won," he simply stated and Edmund immediately knew what he meant. The Ettins had been driven out. Narnia had won, finally. Susan and Lucy both gave loud laughs and Edmund only nodded, smiling.

"Lune and Orieus, they're headed back. They should reach Cair by tomorrow."


	12. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of one shots where loose ends are tied.

_"A resolution to avoid an evil is seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance impossible."_

_~Thomas Hardy_

* * *

_Seventeenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Orieus' body still ached from the continuous battles and struggles to survive, it had been a horrid month but it had been worth it. Narnia was at peace once again, Aslan had bestowed his grace upon them. He stomped his hooves when the flaps of the tent fluttered. He turned around just in time to see King Lune emerge in, his face showing disbelief and eyes showing relief.

Orieus knew that Narnia would forever be in King Lune's debt, he had brought their salvation with him. With King Edmund gone and King Peter back at Cair Peravel, circumstances were even grimmer in Ettinsmoor. The soldiers had begun to lose hope, lose faith; they wouldn't have survived another day had King Lune not so graciously brought reinforcements to help them.

After finally forcing the few remaining giants to retreat, they had begun their journey home immediately. Everyone longed to see their family, smell the Narnian soil again. Turning back his attention to King Lune, he said, "King Lune, what is it?"

King Lune opened his mouth to say something but gulped instead. Then, finally finding his voice, he said, "King Edmund is alive."

* * *

_Eighteenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Edmund adjusted his crown for the hundredth time that day but the stubborn thing tilted again. Pouting, he finally gave up and let his hands hang loosely to his sides. He straightened his back and studied himself in the mirror. He was paler than usual and thinner as well (even after Susan forced him to eat four meals each day). He frowned when his gaze shifted to the still tilted silver crown on his dark hair.

He turned quickly, deciding to stop fussing.

"Edmund?" Peter's voice from outside the room managed to startle Edmund. The dolt had been waiting for him outside this whole time? "Edmund?" The repetition of his name pulled him out his thoughts and hurried to open the door in order to answer Peter's question.

"Finally! You're worse than the girls!" Peter exclaimed.

"I'm not that bad," Edmund protested and Peter only snickered. Peter's eyes narrowed and his expression changed as if he thought something was not right. Then, putting his hands on Edmund's shoulders, he steadied him and went on to adjust his crown. Edmund remained as still as he could.

"There, that's better," Peter said.

And to Edmund's amazement, the crown wasn't tilted anymore. "You're amazing, Pete," Edmund said, making Peter smile at him again.

"Come on," said Peter as he started moving. Edmund followed his brother as they moved through the sunlit, broad and vividly coloured hallways. The guards all bowed and greeted and Edmund could tell they were still getting used to the idea of him back from the dead.

Now that Edmund thought of it, he really was back from the dead. He knew, as did all other Narnians, that no one besides Aslan had been fortunate enough to breathe after their heart had stopped beating. Well, no one besides him and Aslan. Why did the Lion bring him back? What did it cost? Did he deserve it?

His brother abruptly stopped and since Edmund wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he bumped into him. "Ouch! Peter! Why did you stop?" Edmund said while rubbing his forehead. Peter directed Edmund to look ahead. It was Orieus and Lune.

"You're back!" Edmund exclaimed, making his way to them. Peter followed.

"I thought you were going to come back tomorrow," Edmund said and he had to stop himself from questioning them further when he saw them gaping at them. Realizing his mistake, Edmund grinned at them.

"My King..." Orieus began but was cut off by a running Corin who threw himself at Edmund, almost making him stumble back. When news had reached Anvard that Edmund was alive, Corin had insisted to come back to Cair to see Edmund himself. However, Edmund didn't know he would be arriving today. Looking down, he realized the Prince was sobbing. Pulling him away and shooting Peter a worried glance, he knelt in front of him.

"Corin, why are you crying?"

The prince sniffed and Edmund looked up at King Lune and Orieus who merely smiled in a somewhat grim manner. "I…I'm sorry. I heard what happened to you," Corin said between sobs.

Edmund blinked at the prince. Who had seen fit to tell a child about it? He would see to it later.

"It's alright. I'm fine now, see?" Edmund said.

The Prince nodded and Edmund submitted him to his father's care. Corin buried his face into his father's chest and Lune said, "It's truly a miracle you're alive, King Edmund; a blessing. Narnia would have been lost without you."

Orieus smiled. "She was."

* * *

_Nineteenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Susan stared at the white bird, her mind scolding her for not being more poised. Looking to her left, she saw Lucy just as surprised as her while to her right, she saw Peter and Edmund were utterly confused. They raised their brows at her in question but she, for now, ignored them.

"Swiftwind, what brings you here?" she asked.

"I come to apologize, my Queen, to ask for forgiveness that should not be granted. I called the High King, your royal brother, a murderer, Queen Susan. I do not know how I can redeem myself."

She looked to her right once again and saw that her brothers understood now, both smiling. Susan then said, "It is of no matter, Swiftwind. You're forgiven. You were not the only one who let their faith waver. I admire your honesty and bravery, Swiftwind."

He truly wasn't the only one. Only dear Lucy, dear sweet Lucy had never once doubted her brother, had been clever enough to suspect that something was amiss, had saved them all. How could she blame the eagle when she and even Edmund had let themselves believe a lie, even if only to come back to the truth?

"Your majesty, but I-"

"Swiftwind, if you will," Edmund said abruptly, interrupting the bird. He stood up and gestured the bird to follow him out of the hall, to the balcony. The eagle perched himself on Edmund's arm and they spoke in low voices, leaving the remaining three in utter confusion. Then, suddenly, the bird fluttered his wings and flew away, into the blue sky.

When Edmund stepped back in, Peter immediately asked, "What did you…?"

"I had a job for him, he accepted."

* * *

_Eighteenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Edmund reached out for the wine goblet that had been tempting him for the better part of the evening only to have it snatched out of his hands by his brother.

"Hey!" Edmund cried.

"You're not old enough," Peter said.

"I'm seventeen!" he protested. "And that's what? You're sixth glass today?" Edmund said, pointing to the wine-filled glass that Peter held in his right hand.

"I said _you're_ not old enough. You can have some when you're twenty-one." Edmund pouted and heard Peter snicker behind him when he retreated to the balcony, away from the celebrations.

Leaning on the railing, he looked at the horizon. The orange sky met the blue ocean to make for a breathtaking sight. He let out a heavy breath and let his gaze turn to spot a mermaid sitting on a distant rock in the shallow waters. He could almost make out her small figure to be giggling at him before she dived back into the ocean.

"Why am I here, Aslan? Why did you bring me back?" Edmund said, surprising himself with his words. He didn't know why he said it. There was something questioning his worth.

"Child."

Edmund almost let himself be started. He turned to his side just in time to see the Lion coming up beside him, his golden hair swaying in the wind and his eyes set on the ocean.

"Aslan," Edmund said, bowing.

"Tell me, dear one, what do you fear most in this world?"

Edmund blinked twice before closing his eyes to give Aslan's question some thought. Within seconds, he had his answer.

"Losing my family, or my kingdom."

"And what do you think they fear?" he asked as he turned back to the celebrations. Edmund saw Lucy dancing with Mr. Tumnus while Susan was scolding Peter for drinking too much wine, Edmund smiled at that. When he turned back to Aslan, he said,

"I don't know."

"You ask why you're alive but are you not happy for your family, for your kingdom? They need you Edmund, just like you need them."

"But Aslan…what if I…what if I didn't deserve it?"

"Do you question my judgment, Edmund?"

"No," Edmund immediately replied.

"Then why would you say you weren't deserving?"

Edmund looked at the ground, ashamed by his own words. But then, another question crept up into his mind.

"Aslan…I thought…I thought only the deep magic can reverse death…how?"

Aslan smiled. "You weren't dead, Edmund, not truly. There was still life in you, even if only a shadow of it. I only brightened it."

Edmund gaped. "But…"

"Death is irreversible, Edmund, just like you said."

Edmund blinked and the Lion was gone.

"Ed?" He turned around to see Peter approaching him, the wine gone (obviously taken away by Susan).

"What happened?"

Edmund only smiled.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff.

_"In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard of monstrous lust the due and just reward; In Pericles, his queen, and daughter, seen, Although assailed with fortune fierce and keen, Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crowned with joy at last."_

**_~William Shakespeare_ **

* * *

_Nineteenth day of Heimsavery, 1006_

Susan had been right, he had had too much wine yesterday. Even now, its dizzying effects remained, making him clumsy at his feet. Steadying himself by putting a hand on the wall for support, he urged forward towards his brother's chambers. Since they had come back, he had made sure to check on him at least once before going to bed himself.

Usually, he wasn't this late but the celebrations had only now ceased. Edmund, however, had receded to his chambers when the night was still young. He moved forward somewhat unevenly and at last, after what seemed like an eternity but only could have been five minutes, he reached the green, wooden door that he recognized as his brother's chambers'. Opening it and producing a creaking sound in the process, he stepped in, hoping he hadn't wakened Edmund.

The window was open and the wind was making the curtains flutter, periodically revealing the eastern sea that beautifully shimmered under the moon. The room was chilly and Peter was surprised that Edmund wasn't bothered by the low temperature, winter wasn't exactly pleasing to him. Turning his gaze from the flapping curtains to his sleeping brother, he smirked. He had tangled himself completely in the blankets and his unconscious mind was clearly not happy with his current sleeping position since there was a large frown on his face.

He moved to his bedside and very carefully untangled his brother from the blankets. Edmund mumbled, shifted and scowled several times as Peter worked to free him. When he had finally managed to separate his brother and the blanket, he placed it on him in a more even manner. Making sure that Edmund's feet weren't protruding out of the blanket, he sat down beside him on the bed.

Admiring his innocent smile, he brushed back his hair and grinned to himself. When Edmund suddenly groaned and started twisting, Peter took his head in his lap. Shushing his brother's still asleep form, he settled back against the head of the bed. Edmund went lax once more and Peter knew his sleep was peaceful again.

"I love you, Ed. Love you with all I have."

Peter let his eyes close as he adjusted himself to sit in a more comfortable position. His breathing matched with his brother's and soon, the sound lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Peter woke to someone shaking his shoulder. At first, he groaned and urged the person to go away but when his name was whispered, he forced himself to open his eyes. Freeing his hands from under his brother's head, he rubbed his eyes. When the blurry form that stood in front of him sharpened and his vision refocused, he said,

"Susan?"

His sister smiled at him and said, "I didn't expect to find you here. Come on, shift, won't you?"

Acting on her plea, Peter let Edmund once again rest his head on the pillow and slightly shifted him to his right, almost waking him in the process. He looked back at Susan who took a seat beside their brother. Caressing his hair, she smiled and was about to say something when the door opened.

"Lucy?"

Their little sister chuckled slightly to see the three of them nestled together on the wide bed. She stepped in and quietly closed the door behind her. She tiptoed to the bed and settled beside her sister who pulled her close.

Soon, the four of them had snuggled, somehow managing to not wake Edmund in the process. Peter slept to his brother's left, his arm resting under his brother's head and his chin gently placed on his hair. Susan had sat, her back resting on the head of the bed, and her arms wrapped around her two younger siblings. Lucy had snuggled the closest to Edmund, she lay to his right with a large smile on her face. Breaking the silence, Lucy said,

"I couldn't sleep, I was afraid…"

"…that he won't be here in the morning," Susan finished and Peter knew the feeling well.

"It's a miracle he isn't awake already," Peter whispered.

The girls chuckled and Edmund mumbled something indistinct. Shifting closer to his family, Peter closed his weary eyes. _Thank you, Aslan._

* * *

The cold wind made him shudder and his eyes silently fluttered open. There was darkness all around. He had almost panicked when he realized he wasn't free to move but smiled instead when he saw his siblings, all nestled together, all with large smiles on their faces. Letting himself relax again, he closed his eyes.

"Idiots," he whispered to himself, grinning uncontrollably.

"Go back to sleep, Eddie," came Peter's voice from his left, his eyes still closed. Edmund couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

Looking to his right, he saw Lucy curled up on his arm, her face showing a hint of silver in the moonlight. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. He was unsurprised to realize that his head wasn't placed on a pillow but was rather in Susan's lap.

No other place, no other moment could make him happier.

Gazing outside the window, he could see the dark sky showing a small trace of orange, the stars were fading and the moon was sinking. Deciding to get some more sleep before dawn, he closed his eyes.

The waves crashed against the shore and the satisfying sound was the last thing he heard before sleep took him.


End file.
